From within the shaman dream, Cern and Dema recognized the source of the voice as an ancient earth spirit, one who had dwelt in this place since early times.

In the dream they saw him materialize in human form, though dressed not in modern apparel but in foliage that seemed to sprout from his body.

"Come," he said, taking them arm in arm, "It is time to visit the pub!"

As they walked back across the field and into the town of Avebury, their companion's form and apparel shifted further until he was dressed in a modest suit. As they approached the pub, he said, "I like this place. Here I get recognition and respect. See? They even named it after me!" 

He smiled broadly as they entered. "Good evening, Mr. Green," said the barkeep.

"Good evening, Johnny," said Mr. Green. "Allow me to introduce my new American friends, Dema and Cern."

"Welcome," said Johnny, his hands busy drawing Mr. Green's customary pint of stout.

"For my friends, as well," said Mr. Green as Johnny set the mug on the counter.

Johnny nodded and turned back to his work.

Mr. Green smiled up at The Green Man effigy that hung above the bar, its green features molded from leafy growths. Of course he looked nothing like that himself at the moment, although his face was lined and weathered as though he had spent much of his life out of doors. He wore instead his customary green jacket and trousers, and a green bow tie.

Johnny had set up two more foaming mugs, so Cern and Dema thanked him, picked up the mugs and followed Mr. Green to his usual table. He sat, sipped the brew, gave another appreciative nod to the barkeep and smiled contentedly as Cern and Dema took their chairs. Then he leaned back, anticipating which of his many local friends would arrive tonight.

The first to arrive was Freddy, one of Mr. Green's favorites. He waved a greeting to the young couple and came straight to Mr. Green's table. 

"Mr. Green, I see you've met Dema and Cern. I met them on top of the Hill. Did they tell you they are visitors from America, here hoping to get a look at our crop circles?" 

"I'm quite sure a new one will be visible soon," said Mr. Green, with a wave of his old, gnarled hand and a conspiratorial wink at the couple beside him.

As Freddy took his seat the barmaid appeared with a fresh round of mugs, heads overflowing, which she deposited on the table with a flourish.

More friends arrived, and spoke excitedly about the intricate patterns of the latest crop circles to appear in the nearby fields. Mr. Green began to draw circles with his fingertip on the beer-dampened tabletop. 

The circles he drew caught the lamplight in such a way that they retained a golden glow and remained clearly visible. The conversation stilled and his companions turned their attention to the pattern he was creating as the number of circles multiplied. More of the pub's patrons gathered around the table, to look at the pattern and listen to what Mr. Green had to say.

"Energy naturally radiates in circles, spheres if you will," he said. "When the circles from two sources meet, their intersections naturally create equal arcs. Multiple similar sources arrange themselves in an optimum spacing, also quite naturally, so their emanations all create similar arcs." 

He continued to draw a series of equally spaced, mutually intersecting circles, illustrating his comments. As he did so, the pattern began to look less and less like a series of circles, and more and more like petals on a flower, or leaves on a tree. 

"Nature abounds in such patterns," he said. "The circles in the fields are notable only because they are less common, and more distinct, much as the first circle I drew here was more distinct initially than it is now. Our very conversation here creates similar patterns, like the ripples on a pond, only we are less aware of them, perhaps merely because they are so familiar. 

"As some of you know, a crop pattern is merely a two-dimensional visual side effect of this energy release. The energy pattern is overall spherical, and to the higher senses can be perceived above and below the pattern in the field."

Some of his listeners may have indeed perceived subtle spheres intersecting in the space of the room, emanating from each one present. The suggestion allowed Dema and Cern to open themselves to that perception, and they began to sense the complete spherical energy pattern, with its inner whorls and loops, somehow akin to solar flares. 

"But what generates the circles in the fields?" someone asked.

"Perhaps you do, Joseph," Mr. Green replied. 

There was a ripple of laughter at that, for Joseph was known to have tried his hand at tromping out crop patterns in the dark. But Joseph knew that the circles were not all made that way. Mr. Green did not join in the laughter, but spoke quite seriously. 

"Perhaps, Joseph, they appear in the fields when they appear in your dreams."

Faces turned to Joseph, whose eyes had grown wide as if with a sense of wonder, and his mouth opened as if he wanted to say something. But he could only stutter, and finally shook his head with a puzzled frown.

There was another ripple of laughter, but Mr. Green interrupted it by saying, "Don't laugh at Joseph's expense. These are rare times we live in, and Joe has helped to make it so."

"How do you mean that, Mr. Green?" Dema asked.

"For many ages, all people were intimate with the earth, out of necessity. More recently, that has changed, and whole generations have arisen who know little of the land they live on and the influences it exerts on them, or they on it. 

"Now some are returning to the old ways, no longer out of sheer necessity but out of something more like longing, or a sense of loss and responsibility. This is a rare thing, and it is awakening old spirits, bringing them new life."

Dema nodded, beginning to sense also the higher spiritual dimensions of the effect, that the energy is a secondary phenomenon, ultimately derived from thought itself. Many other listeners also nodded in agreement, some more knowingly than others, and a series of side conversations sprang up, expanding on the meaning of his words, commenting on his quaint phrasing, and debating the implications. Some of the circle believers had their own ideas, about gematria and other esoteric topics, but were nevertheless fascinated by these "theories."

Then Cern asked about the origin of Silbury Hill, and Freddy launched into a dissertation on what was known of its history, that it was perhaps older than the pyramids of Egypt, and was seemingly constructed mostly of chalk slabs and rubble as a sort of conical pyramid itself. He spoke of recent archeological discoveries at the site. Mr. Green sat back contentedly and sipped his stout. 

Dema noticed a late arrival, hovering on the fringes of the group, taking in what Freddy and the others had to say, but not participating in the discussions. She sensed something dark about him, something that aroused her Lamia instinct. She asked Freddy who he was. Freddy called him over. 

"Dema and Cern, this is Lucky. He works at the Ministry of Defense. He knows a lot about what we're doing here, trying to solve the mystery of the circles. He thinks it is important work. He's managed to channel some Defense funds our way, and has become one of our leading backers." 

Turning to Lucky he said, "Dema and Cern are visitors from America. They joined us just this evening." 

Freddy obviously thought of Lucky as a good friend, but Dema remained suspicious. Watching him, her DEA side recognized him as the worst kind of government agent, one who spies on his countrymen. She resolved to find out more about him after they left the pub, and made a point of catching a picture of him with her phone camera as she made a touristy record of their visit.

Mr. Green left along with his two new friends, telling his old acquaintances that no, he would not keep night vigil on the hill with them, he was much too old for that. At the end of the lane, by the entrance to the car park, he paused. 

There was no further need for conversation with Cern and Dema, they had already exchanged a deep recognition with him of who and what they were. Mr. Green turned onto the long road out of town, crossing the broad field inside the circle and beyond. After a hundred yards or so he turned his steps into the field itself, on the path toward the hill. 

Curiously, his passing did not seem to disturb the tall stalks of grain. It was as if they made way for him. More curious still, perhaps, was that, had there been anyone else present to watch, they might have seen that in the moonlight his bow tie began to resemble more and more a pair of leaves sprouted from the knot at his throat. Indeed, as he walked deeper into the field his eyebrows and ears too took on a leaf-like appearance. This transformation progressed until, as he reached the far edge of the field, his attire no longer resembled the jacket and trousers he had worn in the pub, but seemed again to be composed entirely of leaves and shoots. 

This changed appearance would have been hard to discern, however, as his form had by then become dim and translucent, barely evident in the faint light of the moon, until he disappeared entirely under the brow of the great hill.

No longer manifesting a physical form, Mr. Green returned to his eternal dream, a dream of growth, of tender shoots thrusting upward toward the warmth and light above, until in time their hardy stalks would flower and burst forth with new heads of seed grain, ready to renew themselves and repeat the cycle. And this night, perhaps, Mr. Green would dream of the oak grove that once grew where he had dreamed a circle for his new friends, and of how the energy now used to gently bend stalks of grain into a pattern of waves was once used to nurture the oaks, and the people who lived among them. Perhaps the pattern of interlocking circles his friends at the pub had found so intriguing would expand, and once again encompass their way of life.