"We never saw that done," said Apollo. "But we will find one, and then you can catch it."
"It's very early for woodcock," said Artemis. "There won't be any in the heather on the second of October. But there may be an early pair in the ferns."
"The first ones always pitch in the ferns on Glenollisdal," said Apollo.
So to Glenollisdal they went, down the shore road and across the little bridge and then by the shepherd's track along the top of the black cliffs, over grass and stones all rough and white with the frost. The cold morning air was like new wine, and Fiona had to shade her eyes from the low sun. Then the track left the cliffs and began to climb up a sunless valley, across little burns beautiful with fading ferns, till between two great moorland crags it reached the pass, more a watercourse now than a track; and then came the cairn at the summit of the pass, with its glorious view of sea and mountain, and down at one's very feet the deep narrow valley that was Glenollisdal, seamed from crest to foot by its deep burn, which ran half its length through faded brown heather and then out to sea through a huge bed of dying bracken, the whole bathed in the bright morning sun.
"We always come here the first day," said Apollo. "Oh, we are going to have fun."
The three followed the track down to where it passed the top of the fern bed. There was a good deal of grass there, dotted with sheep, and in one place, looking well out to sea, a curious little hard circle in the grass, where no sheep ever came.
"That is the fairy ring," said Artemis. "Where they dance, you know."
"They dance on All Hallows E'en," said Apollo. "But no one ever sees them."
"Because everyone's afraid to go and look," said Artemis.
"Please, may we start?" said Apollo.