On a dark night on a moor, 900 years after the nativity, two knights face down a steaming
behemoth.
It was a fog inside of a mist inside of a darkness, and this place was no man’s place
and there was no year or hour at all, but only these men in a faceless emptiness of
sudden frost, storm, and white thunder which moved behind the great falling pane of green
glass that was the lightning.