Winter’s winds begin to rise on the night of Samhuinn Fire Festival, and strange otherworldly creatures gather to greet the new season. All over the land, the Winter King’s forces hear the icy blast’s call. But not all who answer are what he expected.
Long ago, the Wild Hunt were the spirits of the deep, dark forests. They were fur and claw and teeth, howling gales and tidal waves crashing against the cliffs, as old and fierce as Winter itself.
But not any more. We took away their ancient forest, so the Wild Hunt did what they had to do – what all of nature must do – to survive. They evolved. They made a new home for themselves in the engines, the foundries and power stations of this land. Once they were wolfish, now they are dieselpunk. They are the Mad Max hunters who serve the Winter King.
In the old days, the Hunt stayed hidden in the darkness, stalking and picking off the weakest, loneliest, most frightened of their prey until there was no one left. Not any more. They are big, loud and on fire, and you will hear them coming from a mile away. Theirs is a story of evolution, holding space for each other, of making ourselves visible and protecting one another at all costs.
Featured image by Richard Winpenny for Beltane Fire Society. All rights reserved.