By the time we reached the peak of the tor, the rain was horizontal, lashing our faces. My smallest son, who had clambered up, goat-like, shouted directions down to me from the top. ‘Take the right-hand path, Mum—this one is too hard for you to climb!’ I lowered my head and focused on my feet through bog and boulder. Up on the summit, the wind was wild.…
© 2024 Laura Pashby
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