[…It's] bobbing expectantly. You take a step forward: it doesn't move. You step back: it moves with you![…]You take a rather more rapid step back, and collapse abruptly backwards into black and scummy water. It closes over your head without a ripple.
The light bobs and sways over tump and tussock. You watch […] carefully. They tell stories about these things.
Other lights gather. Soon, they are dancing, weaving around each other like children around a maypole. The rhythmic beauty is comforting.
