3 Sisters on the moors:

Where a single lane track crosses the moorland hills overlooking the Wherewithal estuary with Smogdale in the distance there is a lay-by with a very extensive view. Among the grass, close cropped by willing sheep, stand several granite stones.

On the tallest stood Pearl, her hair occasionally moved by the light breeze, the ends catching the sunlight. She looked fondly down at both city and town yet seemed somehow sad at the same time. There was a hint of crows’ feet about her eyes and a tear in one.

Below the stone and a few yards closer to the distant habitation, Annie sat on a stool with a small zither of her own design on her lap. Her eyes were closed as she lived the world of her song.

Crystal, the most energetic of the three over the last two days, lay in front of Annie in the sunniest corner, the best sun trap, and slept.

As Annie ended the song with a gently fading instrumental that echoed phrases throughout the song, the sky cleared and the sun brightened. Crystal opened an eye and stretched. As the music faded she rose with the ease of a cat to stand in front of Annie and Pearl, looked the world, the landscape, the towns, sky, nature and the future openly in the eye, her own eyes sparkling like emeralds, and smiled.

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