"Far off at the western edge of the world, where the green land meets the grey ocean and the wind never falters, Bodrach Nuwl, the Old Man of the Mist, rises a thousand feet above the sea. At his head the wind perpetually thunders, whipping the thin grasses and stunting the trees that lean and cling grimly with their ancient roots. He is so gigantic that each ledge and crinkle in his face is a little world in itself. On green, wind-blasted lawns the size of football pitches, whole populations of rabbits and foxes lead their lives perched in the air with no inkling of the outside world. Small crevices become great chasms, lined with trees growing from the rock itself, fed by ferny waterfalls and inhabited by finches and great dragonflies. Habitats here have no connection with the world at large. There are species of insect that exist nowhere else, and unknown pale orchids that thrive in cracks and crannies. Great caves loom open that from the sea must seem like the holes of sand-martins but in reality could swallow a small village and are inhabited by bats and blind snakes.
 
Behind the cliffs huddles a dismal little town. In the town is a church, and in the church are some pews. And under one of the pews is a boy, hiding from the Vicar."