Welcome to Willoway.
The river bank descends gently to a shallow shelf of stones, small dark fish dart over the browns of the river gravel between shadows. The river flows, seemingly endless with fluid grace as eddies curl and vanish. Next to ragged grass banks, a heron waits, a living statue, poised on one leg, patient as the breeze, patient as the river itself.
Our small village is named after the Willoway river it sits upon, a quiet place with few mysteries …