Despite the bitterness of the February wind, she did not feel the cold against her naked body; rather she relished the way in which the air made her nipples rise and her skin dimple. The moon was full and clear; the thousand thousand stars dotted across the blue-black sky gave her all the warmth that she needed.  Beyond the city walls – way beyond – deep into the north west, lay Mona. She pictured the road – first Roman, then British, then secret ways hidden from all but the Knowing Ones: the side road, the tracks, the paths, the waterways. Finally, there was the temple; the place where she had been initiated, where she had become high priestess. The last of her line, she had been called. But she would be the first of a new line. Once the gods had been appeased; been given the ultimate...

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