The track falls gently through the forest, skitting its way past boulders and and pine tree, rock and tumble.
It steps carefully across streams, half frozen with the snow melt of late winter.
It is early, just a little past dawn.
It’s cold.
Johnny is awake, the bed he left colder than the early light of morning; he is trying to warm himself in the first rays of January sun.
Josep, on horseback, is coming slowly down the track, he is singing. His voice is soft and deep and as rich as the valleys on both sides.
Last night the moon was full, today there is a frost as crisp and clear as his memory of the songs he learnt from his father and grandfather before.
Tomorrow will be another day, but today he will ride past Johnny failing to see him; Johnny will do and say nothing, he is happy to listen to the songs as they bounce and tumble with the leaves and scree.
Johnny’s lover is standing next to him, she reaches for his hand and they turn and kiss.
A raven, suddenly startled takes wing.
Ice drops silently from the branch where it perched.
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