She hunched a little against the cool air and continued on towards the clump of trees she could see across the rolling green fields.

Tirra was in a strange land and feeling a deep sadness.

She reached the shelter of the copse and moved with relief among the big trees, touching their trunks with pleasure. Large drops of water splashed down occasionally. Her feet moved surely across the damp, leaf-littered earth.

She lingered in amongst the trees, reluctant to leave their protection, and folded herself up against the trunk of one of the bigger trees. And this is where Cuchulain came across her a few hours later as the day was fading.

'And what might this be?' he said, when he suddenly realised that the drab grey-green lump curled against the trunk of the tree was a person.

Tirra looked up at him and saw a tall man with dark hair and green-blue eyes. She felt a stab of recognition, though she knew she had not seen this face before. So, when he put out his hand to her, she took it and followed him.

He led her to a cottage a little distance away. Once inside, he took off her damp dress, wrapped her in a blanket and poured her a whiskey and water. Tirra curled up on the couch and sipped her drink. She cupped the glass in her hands and shivered.

Cuchulain looked down at her. 'I'd be lighting a fire, if it wasn't summer,' he said.

She smiled ruefully, 'Not much of a summer is it?'

He looked at her thoughtfully and tried to place her accent. "Fairly normal for round here," he commented.

As Tirra drank more from the glass, Cuchulain reached over and touched her face. Feeling the coldness of her skin, he sat beside her and put his arms around her. She put the glass down and gratefully snuggled close to him, feeling his warmth through the blanket.

The room was quiet, and Tirra began to warm through. He touched her face again and noted that her cheeks were losing their pallor. As she warmed, Tirra began to wriggle her toes and make little movements and after a while she sat up hugging the blanket around her. Cuchulain stayed close to her.

'What were you doing there, getting so cold?' he asked.

'I came to find a friend,' she replied, 'but the land was so sad.'

She looked closely into his face, 'Where are the trees? It's been hundreds of years without trees. It's all grass and fences and houses and people. How can a land be like this?'

Cuchulain's face cleared, 'Australia!' he said, 'You're from Australia.'