The Running of the Deerby Shena Mackay

As the pair of shire horses, harnessed together, dragged a tree trunk across the horizon, in the lull following the morning rush hour of commuter traffic, bicycles and school-run vehicles, Richmond Park settled back into its ancient aspect. Some of the oak trees, grown from medieval acorns, had been standing here long before the land was walled and made into a royal hunting park. The horses, silhouetted against a gauzy November sky which leached the colour from the trees and the birds and the airy globes of mistletoe in their branches, passed from sight and the landscape momentarily belonged to itself and its innumerable non-human population...

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