Tinteán

So they locked hands and fled into the depths of night, seeking to put quick distance between them and any who might try to follow, defying the dead weight of the past and the scourge of present anger, with a light drizzle perhaps freshening the route and the light of the moon gleaming in the puddles as they left the familiar night sounds of home, the heavy movement of the cow and calf, the restlessness of sheep. Continue reading →