Hookland 7/11/20 1:07:19

Some guardians of the forest wear antlered crown, some faces of bone. All have moss on their cloaks and mud on their boots. All know the slow tongue of roots twisting hrough soil, the quick gossip of leaves. – #CLNolan

Hookland 7/11/20 2:21:26

Some of the standing stones of Hookland attract more than respect, more than reverence. The best word might be adoration. The Witch and her Daughters circle, also known as Mother Doom’s Daughters, is one such arrangement. Even in winter, you will always find flowers within it.

Hookland 7/11/20 3:34:14

The year turns and everything has its time. A calendar of green growth, black harrowed soil. Even the standing stones have their seasons. Secret festivals measured in shadow-length, lichen and moss bloom. A hidden almanac aligning with the stars. – #CLNolan

Hookland 7/11/20 6:01:41

Do not sing requiems for the old ways so quickly. Do not pronounce traditions dead without due care. For this is England – time does not flow consistently throughout the land. Many places are caught in slow eddy. The Bone Horse still patrols, the Doomsmen still judge. – #CLNolan