Dartmoor

At some point in that vast, soggy bowl where the river Avon rises, my two ghostly companions found themselves walking circles in the mist. They were not the first or the last to blame their misfortune on the supernatural, or some other beyond-us power: “Indeed so frequently has it happened that the country folk of Devonshire call it being pixie-led.”

I wasn’t carrying an adder skin, the customary Dartmoor charm used to break a pixie’s spell, but I did have better weather as I tried to retrace their footsteps. … Read more