And so the world still spins, the seasons still turn and the island still lies out upon the edge, amidst the passing storms. It is filled with many lives and many deaths, but the Cailleach is ever-present, making sure that whatever fades or falls silent in winter is renewed every spring. She walks the boundaries between moor and shore, between loch and hill. She turns the animals away from bogs and lights a beacon to guide the boats back to harbour. And if you, Traveller, should ever be beguiled by Glamourie and stray upon hill or heather, shore or machair, she will guide your steps — a distant figure on the horizon, marking the way from the mysterious world of the shapeshifters back to the safety of your own familiar fireside.