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As they walk, she pulls off a glove, and holding her hand palm up, she whispers a word, "lasair" and a small bluish/silver flame appears, floating over her hand, dancing merrily back and forth, helping light the way thru the darkness, chasing the shadows back, the rune in her palm glowing a soft silver as the flame dances..................
Her eyes reflect the flames, and the silver in her hair sparkles in the dancing light, throwing glimmers across her face.......
As her staff hits the ground with each step, the tiny tinkling sound it makes keeps time with the flames dance, and the leaves swirl slightly in their passing, resting softly back on the ground, covering any tracks they leave, as if in accordance with some ancient ritual..........................
Soon, they can hear the soft flowing sounds of the waterfall, dancing and flowing softly over rocks and moss, making its way to the stream below, winding down the mountain in a slow ancient rhythm it has marked for hundreds of years....................
The water has a sad quality to its dance and can be felt by all who come near, as if the area is softly crying for mankind........
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