The season was changing very quickly now: the days were cool and misty and the nights were rapidly drawing in, but when the sun managed to shine it still felt pleasantly warm in a sheltered spot.

So Algy lay back among the long waving grasses, high on the hill,  and admired the way the seedheads caught the light, and the vast expanse of landscape and sky all around him. He was thinking about his new children’s book, which was now in preparation: part of the story took place very near this spot, but in the chilly depths of winter. Reclining in the golden sunshine of an early autumn afternoon, it was difficult to remember the harsh winter conditions on the moor, but he had a nasty feeling that it wouldn’t be very long before his memory would be refreshed…


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