The fogs and mists drift through the woods, flowing down from the hills like an opaque stream and collect in brushy hollows and low spots. Eddies and currents powered by light tendrils of wind move it randomly, almost hypnotically in random directions. The fog glows softly with light from a full moon you cannot see through low cloud cover. You can feel the silence… it is almost tangible. Nights like this are when we often see spirits of the dead who have self-bound to our world walking the night, or hear stories of frightening encounters with the Unseelie Court. We know not whether it is something inherent in a foggy night, or the result of our own projected fear and apprehension. We just know it is this way.
There are abundant stories, passed on orally from father to son and mother to daughter, of the White Hounds in the mists… Cron Annwyn. Few have seen them, but those that have claim they are spotless white of fur with red colored ears, standing nearly the height of a grown man. Their howling is loudest when they are at a distance, and as they draw nearer, it grows softer and softer as they approach their quarry. They roam the mists hunting the spirits of the dead, or those who have committed serious evil deeds, devouring them to sustain their own existence. It is more than probable that they are Sidhe, and it is said they dwell in the Underworld under the sway of Morrígan, The Crone, when they are not roaming the surface world.
The hunt does not differentiate between evil and good spirits, and this serves as another reminder on why we must not stray from The Low Road when it is our time to begin our own journey to the Cauldron. Also, the next time you find yourself in the fogs and the mists, when the sun has dipped below the horizon, listen for Cron Annwn… and if their howls seem to be receding, and you have evil in your heart… head indoors and cast your wards. (14)