Sitting in the isolated car park, with the rain still battering sideways into the van, the doubt crept in. Maybe our luck had run out.
On cue, a beaky white face appeared from around the corner to the right and vomited an oily green bile over us. Our cover was blown.
We have definitely moved from an ‘I’ to ‘we’, the two of us now entirely dependent on each other and our actions a single, hungry, thirsty unit of…
The rope inches out. Another salvo of snow, hard-packed this time, and in sufficient volume to indicate that it used to be part of a cornice.