The weather had taken a most peculiar turn, bringing pale, drifting mists that hovered around the islands and floated in and out from the sea across the land all day. Algy flew up to a rocky perch to admire the view, and noticed that everything seemed strangely flat in the diffuse light. There wasn’t the slightest sign of green on the peat bogs or moorland yet, but there was a definite change in the air, and Algy knew that the West Highland spring had arrived.