IX

      They meditated on the fire, being drawn deeper into its flames and Iseult played on her penny whistle, a haunting lullaby. The skyline over the water brooded heavily in black and blue. The fire before them was the opposite in palate. It was the only light except for a moony silver over the clouds.
      Tangling their thoughts in the fire, it was easy to let their minds slip into the smoke. The smoke drew up higher until it met the lonely whistle on the breeze, and vanished into air.
      Quietly, after sitting for a long time, Milicent said that they should put the fire out. But it seemed such a shame that in the end they waited half the night to let it burn down before dowsing it.
      Then they crept home in the very, very dark, following each others voices and trying not to fall into the Norfolk swamp.