tulaich

Updated: May 2, 2025

John M'Iver laid him down on the tulaich and clawed with his nails the stunted grass that in wind-blown patches came through the snow. None of my words made any difference on his anguish. I was piping to the surrender of sorrow, nigh mad myself.

Neil Munro - John Splendid: The Tale of a Poor Gentleman, and the Little Wars of Lorn