Winter's guest

It's not a nip or a chill in the air, not any more, but Winter proper; the temperature sank dramatically after I had finished coppicing at the wood, and I came home shivering despite my coat. How strange a time this is! Today I was alone in the portacabin, and a loud clanging sound like a knock on the metal door resounded. I opened it, only to find no-one there.

Because this is the particular form my bean-sidhe tends to take, perhaps it would have been better not to open the door. But there you go. Old stories...
http://smokingboot.livejournal.com/399517.html