A notable creature, so proud, almost silent in the darkness.
They watch the castle, with all its history wrapped up in stone, as a familiar figure walks through the heather. He strides across the Scottish heather, and the oak trees welcome him back.
It is as though time has never passed. The castle looks the same, its stone walls kept strong. One step, then another, into a shadow of sounds. I can hardly see a thing, but I don’t lose my footing.
I am home.