A shout of triumph woke me out of my reverie - hikers arriving victorious at the hut after a long walk. Not yet ready to give up my privacy and, with mischievous reminiscences of Puck and Tom Brown, I decided not to let them know my whereabouts. I crawled behind bushes and flitted between trees like a faerie, enjoying the powerful feeling of seeing while remaining unseen.
People, however, are often quite predictable and, as I have seen people put up camp a hundred times, i soon wearied of my reconnoissance and turned my attention to some nearby goats. Although I know in theory how to stalk animals and have, occasionally, even been successful in application of such, i lacked the incentive and therefore the patience to be as slow and quiet as was needed. The goats moved off. I followed. They moved further. I followed again. I felt rather like the Pevensie children being led deep into Narnia by Mr. Beaver or a foolish traveler being led to unknown, wilder worlds by a will-o-the-wisp. In reality, the goats probably didn't want my company but also didn't see me as a real threat, so could't be bothered taking the trouble to actually run off.
They did give me the slip eventually, though, and i simply continued my ramblings in the faerie wood. I made myself a tiara out of fern leaves and moss and flowers and walked down faerie highways (fallen, moss covered trees) and imagined myself a whole magical world of adventure and beauty.