1. The snow falls steadily but fails to settle.
2. “One day, I’m going to walk that way,” John says, pointing to the opposite side of a hillock. I lead the charge. The track winds, taking us first to a field I last visited three years ago (I point at a gate post pushed over to make a stile and recall sitting there to have a drink), then loops back to join the main path further on. We continue outward to the village then head back into the woods for the return journey. By the time we finally reach home, our cheeks are pink with cold and exertion.
3. A conversation grows as it snares passing people. Lily and Malcolm mingle for tickles, treats and attention but the large white dog stands still and impassive.
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