Katerina eats, sleeps, and breathes cultural anthropology. The only stain on her success is her worry she’ll go mad just like a few other women in her family. That fear rockets to the fore when she’s on a lecture tour in the Scottish Highlands and hallucinations grab her, visions rife with horrors straight out of medieval folklore.
Arlen, Arch Druid for all of Great Britain, hasn’t called on his magic much in the past hundred years. No need for it in the midst of the twenty-first century. While attending a lecture, he detects fell forces. A closer look reveals the impossible. He’d thought the Roskelly witches long dead. Brutal, feral, violent, they were the force behind Scotland’s bloodiest clan wars. Risen from their crypts, they’re intent on Katerina. What he can’t figure out is why.
Finally! A challenge for his long-neglected powers. Far from being grateful, though, Katerina doesn’t trust him. Why should she? A headlong dash to escape his unwanted attention lands her three hundred years in the past with no way out.
I'm basically a mountaineer at heart. I remember many hours at my desk where my body may have been stuck inside four walls, but my soul was planning yet one more trip to the backcountry. There's a timeless element to the mountains. They feel like old friends as I visit them, and visit them again. There's nothing like standing on a remote pass where I've been before and seeing that the vista is unchanged. Or on an equally remote peak. Mountains are the bones of the world. They'll prevail long after all of us are dust. It feels honest and humbling to share space with them. I hope I'm blessed with many more years to wander the local landscape. The memories are incomparable. They warm me and help me believe there will be something left for our children and their children after them.