I was out walking with a friend in the New Forest and we were looking at an iron age hill fort. Of course it is in the New Forest so all we can see are trees and maybe a slight rise where the ring had been.
“You know if my mate were here she would find a knapped stone,” I say.
“What?” he asks and gives me a grin.
“A worked stone from the neolithic.”
He just shakes his head.
Then I spy it… Nestled in the path. Not a knapped stone but a flake. Knocked off the main piece. I bend down and dig it out. Then holding it up I present it to him.
He runs a hand over the edge.
“Careful,” I say. “It’ll be sharp.”
He winces as the edge scores his finger, not enough to cut but just the right amount to hurt.
“It would have made a knife,” I say.
He smiles and slips the stone fragment in his pocket. “To remember the walk.”
I smile and we carry on walking, hand in hand.
Sometimes it is the small things and a gift can be something ancient.