The weather was dreary with mist in the valleys and low cloud cladding the summits, so the light levels were low.
On a pulpit stone in vast open moorland stood a proud woman, her long hair blowing in the wind. It was as if she were addressing a crowd but she held her hands before her, covering her womanhood. I loved the contrast. She became aware that I was studying her so I started to walk away but she glanced at me for a few seconds before turning her head towards the dark clouds now sweeping in from the sea.