among the blooming heather

The Moor was awash with hues of blooming purple heather. The scent of wild thyme and mint gave the place an entirely ethereal feel, mist coating the rolling ground beneath her feet. She only imagined the fog would be a common feature in all but the heights of summer. Red grouse called an alert in the distance, their almost barking trill almost mistakeable for a frog call. She smirked. Modesty wasn't particularly hungry right now. Small stands of green bracken broke the brown and purple hues, and the occasional yellow splash of gorse broke the monotony of the landscape. As she continued to stroll, the looming shadow of the stones appeared before her, almost otherworldly through the mist.

“Speech.”