A highland legend, told in light.

The Vale of Aldermere, autumn 1891.

Isla and her grandfather kept the last herd in the vale.

Tomorrow they would bring it down from the hills, before the snow.

They set out at first light.

Sixty horses, pouring down out of the cloud.

One river, and no bridge.

At the standing stones they stopped to rest.

He showed her the oldest carving in the vale:

a grey mare, who comes out of the snow to lead the lost home.

On the high pass, the snow came early.

The herd broke and ran. His voice went with the wind.

By dark, Isla was alone with one lantern.

Then, out of the white, a grey mare.

She turned for the dark hills, and Isla followed.

All night the mare ran ahead of her,

never so far that Isla lost sight of her.

At dawn the bells of Kell were ringing.

Every horse had found its own way down.

The grey mare was never seen again.

But some mornings, after snow, there are hoofprints up at the stones.