Dance of the Stones Read Online Free Page B

despite the rain, patted them, photographed them and walked slowly and admiringly around the mile circumference of the Great Circle.
    Suddenly there was a quiver in the air, a tiny shiver of delight, as the clouds concealing the sun parted.
    A station wagon was approaching the Circle entrance at the head of the Avenue, the entrance the stones knew as the Shaman’s Entrance.
    The children had arrived.
    *   *   *
    As Ron spoke, the rain stopped and shafts of sunlight lit two standing stones, one on each side of the road. As the car passed between, a double rainbow arched overhead.
    â€œWhat a welcome,” said Lynne as they swept into the small village of Avebury.
    The wide-eyed children said nothing. They were watching a hawk circling.
    Ron eased the car between narrow gateposts and drove into a graveled courtyard. He stopped and stretched.
    â€œMy acorn,” hissed Holly. “Watch your feet.”
    Adam unfastened his seat belt and slid to the floor. He stretched his arm under the seat and flailed around until his fingers touched the small woody object. He pulled it out and, without a word, handed it to Holly.
    Holly smiled with relief and stuffed the acorn in her pocket. “Thanks.”
    Harmony restored, the four children tumbled out of the car and gazed around.
    Manor Cottage was a large stone house on the main street of a tiny village.
    The children ran out into the street and looked up and down.
    â€œThis place is smaller than Uffington,” Adam said. “I didn’t think it was possible.”
    â€œGreat things come in small parcels,” remarked a man with a long, gray beard. He strode past holding a tall, carved wooden stick with an ornate brass top.
    Adam stared, then colored with embarrassment.
    â€œKeep your voice down,” hissed Owen. “There are people around.”
    â€œStrange people,” Chantel whispered back.
    The children watched as the gray-bearded man was joined by a long-haired woman in a flowing dress. An enormous crystal pendant hung around her neck.
    Other people were sitting on walls, enjoying the sunshine. Many were tourists. The car park next to Manor Cottage was filled with buses, and the old inn beyond was doing a roaring trade. Village people bustled to and fro carrying shopping bags or clutching letters to mail.
    The doors of the village shops were propped open. A gift shop, an antique shop and a tiny grocery store-cum-post office sat in a row opposite Manor Cottage. Then came a field with a stile in the fence used by a constant stream of visitors entering and exiting. The field was followed by another row of gray stone buildings, obviously houses. Flowers bloomed in pots and window boxes, and all the roofs sported well-trimmed thatch.
    On the other side of Manor Cottage was a collection of large barns with an arrow on the side that proclaimed MUSEUM. Beyond, a church spire loomed over a wall, and in the distance a large old house was half hidden behind a row of trees.
    â€œIt’s tiny, but pretty,” said Chantel softly. “I like it here.”
    â€œMum,” called Owen, “where’s the rest of the Circle? I only spotted two stones as we drove in.”
    Lynne walked out of the courtyard to join them. She waved her arm in a big gesture. “We’re in the middle of it. The Circle is large; it surrounds the village. The stones are in the fields beyond the houses.” She pointed to a woman climbing the stile across the road. “Half the Circle is on that side and half on this. Unload your stuff from the car and you can go and explore.”
    â€œLynne, Ron. How nice to see you again! I thought I heard the car.” A tall dark woman came out of the back door as the children started pulling their belongings from the car. She hugged Lynne and shook Ron’s hand. “We are so grateful you could come at short notice.” She turned and looked at the children. “This must be your