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Out they’d go in a lull, screaming like gulls, and back they’d be driven five good miles inland before they could come head to wind again … It was Magic—Magic as black as Merlin could make it, and the whole sea was green fire and white foam with singing mermaids in it. And the Horses of the Hills picked their way from one wave to another by the lightning flashes!

  

Puck, in Puck of Pook’s Hill is telling Dan and Una of the old days of the ‘People of the Hills’, very different from the gauzy-winged beings that the word ‘fairy’ had come to mean in the nineteenth century.


   

   

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