A watchful silence envelopes me as I enter the ancient Yew forest, needles yield softening my tread. Tales of previous visitors reveal themselves…

Love tokens nestle in the crook of a bough taunting me. Will the spell be broken?

A New Age dream-catcher suspended from a branch, a sorter of good and evil or merely cultural misappropriation?

Just above the forest floor a single feather balances. Velvet down and flutings ensure prey is unaware as the Tawny Owl swoops without sound…