Surrounded by cold, and the place's intense beauty, I almost believed in the fairytales I was told as a child by adults willing to scare me. These were stories about faeries who aren't so friendly, who will make you dance until you die and will take you to their world and you will never be allowed to leave if you drink or eat anything they give you there.
As a Muslim, it was silly of me, childish, to wonder in those minutes alone without my husband, wandering barefoot in the marsh and woodland garden.
But then, maybe not afterall.
Muslims believe in Jinn, both good and bad, and the Jinn have their own world, so maybe these stories are older. The Gaelic race who conquered Ireland just before the bronze age are related to the jahiliyia/pre-Islamic Arabs so why not?
Whether you believe in Jinn or faeries, I know Arabs who carry amulets to ward off the evil eye, and read chants to barr jinn from entering their homes, and I know Irish who bury an iron blade under the doorframe when building their homes, and sprinkle salt in a certain direction, and leave milk and food out at night, all to please or to keep away the fair folk/Sidhe/faeries. It usually entertains me, pure silliness, but this day, I admit to being childishly worried.