"She sat in the silver moonlight, her breath fast, her heart pounding, her long, silky jackrabbit ears twitching at every sound. Her eyes were dark in a pale, human face. The Hounds had run her to exhaustion. But she must not sleep, for she had promised that she would watch over this land tonight. Who was it she had promised? The Spine Witch, or the Wood Mage, or perhaps even the One-Who-Sleeps -- she was going to have to remember now. To resist the pull of the animal-self and be present in this place and time, walking that linear human path that went so against her nature." -- Terri Windling, The Wood Wife
In the black furror of a field
I saw an old witch-hare this night;
And she cocked a lissome ear,
And she eyed the moon so bright,
And she nibbled of the green;
And I whispered "Whsst! witch-hare,"
Away like a ghostie o’er the field
She fled, and left the moonlight there.
~ a 19th century children’s poem by Walter de la Mare
Great Easter post. You might want to mention that the drawing you've posted here is by Brian Froud. (Credit where credit is due and all that....)
ReplyDeleteIt's the best I had at the end of a busy but happy Sunday. I read a little, shared a little. Here's credit where credit is due: illustration from The Wood Wife (http://www.endicott-studio.com/gal/galwwife.html) of Thumper by Brian Froud.
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