“I’m not trespassing am I?” Tim asked anxiously.
“Trespassing? Possibly. You don’t belong here now, I’m thinking.”
“Is this your land?” Tim asked again, dreading getting the wrong side of a neighbour so soon.
“Yes.” She turned and looked down the slope. Tim found himself looking too, automatically his eyes fell on the grange… and it wasn’t there. His heart shrank, and he gasped, looking frantically across the plain. No village, no road, no fields, just turf and scrub and reeds. In the distance a flow of reddish brown, like a swarm of bees, his distracted mind identified them as deer- so many… and he turned back to the dark blue eyes observing him.
“Yes,” she said again. “This is my land. But you may walk here, whenever you choose.” She nodded as though he had answered, called to the dogs, and walked away, the thin muscled haunches of the dogs swaying on either side of her long stride.
Copyright Cherry Potts 2010
Slightly appalled that I started writing this ten years ago. In January 2020 I dusted it off and started work seriously. It is still about half way, but lockdown squashed my enthusisasm for a book that occurs mainly outdoors, in places I love, but can’t get to! It needs lots of research so is back on the backburner.