The Inward Storm. PENNY JORDAN

she stopped in the shelter of a small dip, and found a smooth stone to sit on while she ate her lunch. An inquisitive sheep ambled across to investigate her, closely followed by other members of its flock. Across on the other side of the Dale Kate watched a farmer and his dog working their sheep.

      Sheepdog trials were one of the events of the Dales, and Kate thoroughly enjoyed going to watch these skilled animals cleverly manoeuvering their charges. Kevin had explained to her that the pups were often put in with an old ram, especially if they had a tendency to be boisterous, and that the dogs soon learned to mark down the leader of any flock and to control it through him.

      The dog on the opposite hillside was obviously a young one, and Kate marvelled both at the patience of the farmer and the stamina of the dog as calls and whistles were repeated over and over again until the dog thoroughly understood the command. Owning a good working dog was essential to sheep farming, and Kate knew that these dogs were exported all over the world. She had been toying with the idea of getting a pup herself. Kevin had told her that since she wanted the dog as a pet she would have no trouble getting a bitch puppy from one of the farmers. ‘Bitches are harder to work with because they’re more emotional than dogs,’ he had told her with a grin, but Kate had refused to respond to the bait.

      A sudden gust of wind reminded her that she had been sitting down longer than she intended, and she shivered as she stood up, glancing behind her as she stepped out of the protection of the hollow and discovered that the sun had stopped shining. A glance over her shoulder showed her why. While she had been eating her lunch and watching the farmer with his dog a thin mist had started to creep down the hillside. Already the hills above her were blotted out completely, and she felt a tug of nervousness in the pit of her stomach. Too often she had heard tales of the unwary wandering from the path in the heavy mists that shrouded the hills, losing their way completely, sometimes falling to their deaths as they strayed too far. Kate looked at her watch. She had come more than half way, but the remainder of the walk was more rugged, with sheer escarpments falling away to her left. On a clear day the track was perfectly safe and afforded magnificent views of the surrounding scenery, but in a thick mist … Kate looked anxiously behind her. Was it her imagination, or had the mist increased in the short space of time since she first noticed it? If it became any thicker she would be a fool to continue her walk, because she could easily lose the track and fall. On the other hand, no one knew where she was, and warm though her clothing was, it was no protection against a cold night spent outside on the fells. That left only one alternative. She would have to turn back. But that meant climbing again into the mist which was definitely thickening and creeping towards her.