The forest today was cold, really cold, the coldest day thus far. Mist covered the land, swirling amidst the stands, racing over the heather, becoming thicker as you descended into the valleys, a chill mist, it embraces you, penetrating your cloths and chilling your bones. Dampness clung to everything, filling every space. A filigree of small water courses run between the tussucks of tough grasses, feeding into gullies which channel through the woods to feed Red Rise Brook. The landscape, what could be seen of it, was silent, nothing stirred; any woodland inhabitants that could would be tucked up.