Waiting for Light, Choosing to Turn Back
A meadow of mist swallowed the path, and clitter ahead felt like teeth. We sheltered behind a boulder, pulled on dry layers, brewed tea, and waited for the promised lift. It arrived late and thin, not enough for the rocky traverse we wanted. We turned back, warm and content. Pride murmured, but the group finished smiling with toes intact. Retreat did not erase the morning; it improved it. The moor is generous tomorrow, and we intend to meet it ready.