Rowan trees, guardians against evil. Some say the devil hanged his mother on one. The lore of old knows the tree’s power of protection, warding off the witches.
The fear must have been great in Cannich, where the old graveyard lies open, surounded by vast blank fields for grazing. No house in sight. No church near. The dear safe our there. Sheltered by dry stone walls. Dykes for the dead. Protected by the power of the ancient Rowan tree. All around.
Fagile small trees with tantalising berries, bloodred and tempting. But only the good at heart can go near them safely. The others will feel the rowan tree’s mythical power. The dead will be safe.
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