"Welcome! Welcome!", he said. His arms open wide, he gestured toward the cottage. "Go on up. I'll be right there."
The Pilgrims gathered outside, taking photos and chatting quietly. Soon, they were taken though and out to the back garden, where the tree labyrinth was waiting.
The Woodland Bard shared stories, looking over his shoulder from time to time in order to show them where these tales took place. In the distance stood a Hawthorn tree in the middle of a field.
"Even those who don't believe in Faeries wouldn't dare bring harm to a Hawthorn."
The time had come to make their way down the path and to the entrance of the labyrinth. There, he told them to choose an apple. They would dip it in the water and coat it with ash, carrying it with them. When the path led them back to this point, they would wash the apple and continue on. It was symbolic of transformation. Leaving all that no longer serves behind and allowing yourself to emerge fresh and ready to move forward.
The labyrinth was beautiful and peaceful. She went in, open to whatever might happen and emerged serene, with a sense of purpose.
The Faeries are calling.
