‘What does it mean?’ said Tully, blinking away the mist that gathered liked tears on her lashes.
Wing laughed. ‘Mean?’ he said, cuffing his nose with a meaty fist. ‘A bleached deer with the dun means nothing, only that God is bored and plays with creation as a child plays with a poppet.’
But Tully had been watching, seen the crows clinging to the trees like stubborn snow, seen the ice-coloured squirrels and the ghostly, stripeless badgers. The creatures of wood and heath were paling, fading into the mid-winter sky and there was no part of her that could guess why – yet.
By the way, dears, for those of you not in the know, poppet (though used more recently when referring to a sweet and likeable child) is an old word for doll – though one often associated with witchcraft.