You walk along an ancient path through the rolling green hills. Bees buzz among the heather and sheep feed in the distance. Above you stretches a gray-washed sky. Ahead a set of ancient rickety steps takes you over a stone wall as your path snakes across the countryside.
As you travel, mist forms around you. At first, this is not concerning, for fog is a common sight upon the moors, but after a while, your path becomes obscure until you are lost in a sea of white. Fearful to take your next step as moisture beads upon your skin, you stand still, hoping the path will clear so you can find your way home.
The mist finally thins, but somehow you aren't where you remember. The hills look different, the path unknown. Confused, you turn in a slow circle. The cold breeze whips about you, and you shiver. Through the remaining haze, you catch sight of a tall figure. A brawny man in kilt strides along the path. He pauses and considers you with keen, blue eyes.
He nods in greeting, seeming to understand that you are lost, and beckons you forward. He guides you down the gentle slope and around spires of stone into a green valley where cattle peacefully graze. Ahead a village sits behind a wooden palisade. Homes of stone and thatch surround a stone hall while children play in the road before it. Somehow you know you are no longer in your own time, but in spite of this, you feel safe, welcomed, at home even. Whatever magic has brought you here, it is not a foul sort and it has its purpose.
The tall man brings you into his hall. A fire roars within the hearth and a woman stands before it, stirring something in a great black cauldron. A delicious fragrance floats about you, and your stomach rumbles. The man offers you a seat before his hearth. Slowly your toes thaw as the warmth from the fire dries your dampened clothes.
The woman hums a gentle song as she goes about her cooking. The man goes out and then returns again with arms full of firewood which he adds to the blaze.
Your hosts treat you well, bringing you food and drink and offering you a warm, woolen cloak when they notice your thin garments. The light filtering through the door grows golden as the sun begins to set. Soon you hear the sound of buoyant voices and revelry. A hunting party has brought in game, and a great feast is being prepared. You don't wish to intrude but they make it clear you are a welcome guest.
Soon the aromas of roasting meats, fragrant herbs, and rich wine rise from wooden tables. Someone takes up a pipe, then another a drum, and soon music fills the tiny village. Young people dance around a roaring bonfire as tales are told and the feast begins.
The sky grows dark, lit by a myriad of stars and sparks from the fire rising into the night. Your hostess approaches you, a single candle in her hand.
"This will light your way home," she assures you.
You take it and the world swirls around you. Night turns to day as fast as a blink, and you stand once more upon the path in the green hills, but this time familiar, and you know your destination is just a short walk away. In your hand, the candle still flickers, its flame reminding you of your magical journey to another place and time. Smiling to yourself, you continue home.