General
Holly felt helpless and alone. She was cold and stiff from standing still. The mist closing in was creepy. She peered down the rapidly disappearing track, wondering if she should follow everyone.
"I can't stay here," she mused out loud. "The tide will cut me off." She stepped onto the track.
Her toe kicked a small stone. It rolled before her, black, shiny and perfectly round.
Holly picked it up. It was a bead, a polished jet bead.
Moonbeam by moonbeam the Tor drank in the magic, until its crystal heart beat strong and the forgotten edges of the ancient Labyrinth that climbed its slopes glowed.
Still the moonlight poured down. The Tor drank till it could drink no more. Three large, white, oval stones on its flanks shone with an inner radiance. Two stones marked the entrance to the forgotten spiral path. The third gleamed like an eye, high on the Tor's flank at the path's goal.
