Disclaimer: These characters belong to Tolkien. I make no money from this
Note: Here "widdershins" sounded better than "anticlockwise".
The yew was steeped in its circumference of ancient, poisonous flesh; tendrils deep in the earth...impenetrable.
Never run around it the wrong way, or the goblins will get you.
“Running widdershins,” they called it.
So she did...on spindly legs, grass stains on skirts and elbows...heart hammering; laughing triumphantly when nothing happened.
Later, when grown, she feels fenced in and invaded; poison through her skin...peeling in layers, like bark.
In her head she is running...widdershins...towards a dark door. Someone is waiting for her, and she does not care who, as long as it is one she can put her blade in.