The stone is warm beneath her back.
Above her the clear blue of the sky is powdered with clouds, barely moving.
It is sheltered here in the circle, the earthen banks of the henge protecting the centre from the ceaseless assault of the winds in this high place…
…She closes her eyes and waits, feet towards the centre, hands crossed on her breast, relaxing each muscle, each limb in turn, breathing deeply the clear air.
The shift comes.
The world falls away.
She can see her companion through closed eyes, across the circle, mirroring her.
She does not need to look to feel his presence…
…On the screen of inner sight a single glowing point of light that seems farther than the farthest star, yet closer than the sun.
Between her and the light nothing but the streaks of passage… a stream of movement, as of a million suns caught racing comets in the blackness of space.
A wormhole… dragons… serpents aflame with brilliance… a tunnel through which she is rushing faster than the light itself, falling inwards, forwards, upwards… she does not know…
…Then a figure blocking the brightness… a dark silhouette against the torchlight and the tang of smoke…