Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

Walking between twin streams and turgid waters, blackness closes around us. A faint glimmer ahead to guide our footsteps and the sound of distant drums. Wet earth sucks at our feet, reluctant to let us pass as winter grips the land. Against the night sky, the darker bulk of the hills swallows all light…save that of the flames against which strange, amorphous silhouettes begin to creep.

Points of flame blossom on the hill…a garden of fire casting golden pollen to the winds as the rain falls, drenching an already drowned land. The drums grow louder…pipes haunt the night…and high above, Jack Frost prowls…

…the Winter King, the icy sovereign holding court, surrounded by the bone-white masks of spectral acolytes.

But it is  the season of change… Jack Frost will not go unchallenged. As he shoots ice-fire into the darkness, he knows it is time…

Imbolc brought the sun to earth…