The call of the wind draws The Old Woman from her bed in the cave. Ladling herself a mug of herbal tea, she stands at the entrance where a gust tugs at loose strands of her long, white hair, as if in invitation. On the top of the island, the wind roars through the trees, tearing the clouds apart. The storm sends the mammals scuttling to their dens, but heralds the birds to the great wing dance in the sky. Eagles soar in wide arcs. A flock of Seagulls forms its very own storm cloud. The Old Woman is so entranced by the wonder of the white and grey birds filling the air with their feathers and their cries, that she misses the rustling sound behind her. Raven flies headfirst into her arm and tea sloshes from the mug in her hand. She sighs at the loss as the black and white Ravens join the Seagulls dancing in the wind.
Medicine Brew
Medicine Brew
Medicine Brew
The call of the wind draws The Old Woman from her bed in the cave. Ladling herself a mug of herbal tea, she stands at the entrance where a gust tugs at loose strands of her long, white hair, as if in invitation. On the top of the island, the wind roars through the trees, tearing the clouds apart. The storm sends the mammals scuttling to their dens, but heralds the birds to the great wing dance in the sky. Eagles soar in wide arcs. A flock of Seagulls forms its very own storm cloud. The Old Woman is so entranced by the wonder of the white and grey birds filling the air with their feathers and their cries, that she misses the rustling sound behind her. Raven flies headfirst into her arm and tea sloshes from the mug in her hand. She sighs at the loss as the black and white Ravens join the Seagulls dancing in the wind.