High on the moors four lanes come together. Nearby a neglected farm seems to be sinking back into the moor. A Manor House has its doors locked and barred and stone flags missing from the roof. A small church seemed to have fared little better, its linch gate hangs from one hinge.
Almost bent double and battling to make headway against the niddering wind appeared a individual dressed in threadbare clothes. Appearing intoxicated after taking a few steps forward the man collapsed in an untidy heap. Patrick was home with his blood stained face and blooded knuckles.