The Beginning (Introduction)
I'm not sure what it was. Was it the mist that curled around my ankles like vines, or the morning sun as it sliced through the cloud and illuminated furrowed fields, or the grey stone cottages (still sleeping) that watched me quietly as I passed? Perhaps it was none of them. Perhaps it was the dew drops balanced delicately on the long grass. Perhaps it was the crisp air that cupped my cheeks as if to say, 'You must wake up now. You must'. Perhaps it was all of them. Whatever it was, I know one thing for certain: that after one short walk in the Yorkshire Dales, I fell wholly, irrevocably in love with the place. I suppose that's why I'm here, when I'm not supposed to be. Having just completed my Master's degree at the University of Cambridge, I'm supposed to be walking into a high-flying graduate job in the Big Smoke, selling my soul to a room of empty words and ironed suits. Except I can't. Because I only have one soul, and several years ago I gave ...