In a small forest on the Lizard Peninsula, something darkly magical awaits those who wander under the trees around dusk.

The vision of the late Bill Mitchell, Wolf’s Child is not so much a flowing narrative as a series of vignettes, anchored together by their sense of place, of an antagonism between nature and humanity, inside and out.

The performance, for it is more than just a play, is set in the stunning surrounds of the Trelowarren estate, with visitors urged to ‘stick to the middle of the path (a very fairytale affectation) as they work their way from one scene or tableaux to the next.

While ostensibly a simple tale of a young woman thrown out by the society which sheltered her and cast upon the mercy of wolves, the production seems to be always on the cusp of allegory, but never quite reaching it.

Wildworks’ latest offering has grand ambitions and it almost reaches them, with quite sumptuous and elegant staging conjured up almost out of the living forest.

As can be expected from a play in which half the characters are animals, dialogue is sparse. However the cast of crows who provide much of the narration – as well as acting as ‘familiars’ to guide the audience through the darkening woods – were the understated stars of the evening.

It was this shuffling around which was the only thing which could have been curtailed a little – however a torchlit procession towards the fireside finale is something everyone should experience.