The crest of the ridge, not far from the summit. The land sweeps out below them. A great sea of pine. He starts to unpack the rucksack. 'Torch, mess tins, flasks, sleeping bag, poncho, hat, utensils-' She scratches her nose. 'Tent?' 'Pardon?' The first patter of rain.
Paddy Dobson
24th July 2021