By Angel Honey
The women languish in small circles of tawny light, so happily conversant, as sunshine eases through leaves which reflect deep autumnal colour. They espy a unicorn, just before it senses them, where their gasp is collective. So they draw with haste and splash with colour before it merges with pinewood and is gone. The day is complete as they emerge, not as lonely old women with time heavy in hand, but nubile young females in search of some new, enlightened magic. Inside this known Enchanted Forest, they have touched the ethereal, which in its turn, has touched them all as one.