The air smelled of burning.
Whispers of smoke rose up from the scorched remains of bonfires. At the centre of the Cresent-moon field, the hollow body of the wicker man remained tall, untouched by the flames of the night before, and monstrous in the half-light. There'd been a stay of execution. I shivered. Bloody barbaric. Even if it was just an effigy.
The camp-site seemed uneasy, as if the whole place was holding its breath. A shiver tickled her spine and she had almost thought about slipping back inside her tent and zipping up her flap until more people were around. but there were people all over the place she reminded herself, just hidden by the canvas. And this was the middle of as lake district, not the middle of the city. What was there to be frightened of? (seeing her....)Lucy massaged her shoulders and picked her way through the sagging tents. The dewy grass was slippery beneath her converse, but was soon replaced by hard pebbles as she reached the water's edge