The cave - By Kate Mosse Page 0,3

opposite way down the hill, but he was all right. He was alive.

Bit by bit, he worked out what had happened. The car had skidded, spun around and run into the marker stones at the side of the road. It was the trees, though, that stopped him heading straight over the edge.

Freddie let his head fall back against the seat. His heart was thudding like a drum. He could feel shards of glass in his lap. The thought of how close he had come gave him a sick, cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wiped his face. When he looked down, there was red blood, bright red, on the tips of his brown leather gloves.

The minutes passed. Still Freddie could not move. His legs had turned to jelly and his pulse was jumping still. The wind whistled around the car. The rain was still hammering down on the roof. He was soaking wet. But he was safe.

The moment of relief passed. Freddie knew he had to find help. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and opened the door. A violent gust of wind set the door flying back against the side. The car tipped dangerously.

Very slowly, Freddie put out first one leg, then the other. The wind was threatening to knock him off balance and made his ears ring. Inch by inch, he eased himself out of the car and managed to stand up.

Freddie closed the door, stepped back, then looked at the damage. The good news was that the body of the car was still on the road. Only the nearside wheels were overhanging the ravine. The bad news was that the front axle looked broken and the windscreen was gone. One thing was certain, he could not get the car back on the road on his own.

Freddie wasn’t sure he could risk getting his overnight pack from the boot. He might send the car right over. He carefully opened his door and reached across to take the map book from the seat. Fighting to hold the pages steady in the wind, he saw there was a small village marked lower down the mountain, slightly off the main track.

Freddie locked the car. He put the keys in his pocket then headed back down the road to where a footpath was marked on the map.

Head down, collar pulled up, Freddie trudged down the hill. The wind boxed his ears. The rain drove into the back of his neck, his back, his knees. His tweed trousers were soaking wet and flapped against his legs. The world seemed to have turned to water. Everything shimmered silver, with not a dry patch of land or tree in sight. Although the wind was easing a little and Freddie had not heard thunder for some minutes, the rain was still falling, fast and furious. It bounced over the surface of the road like sparks from a firework.

Freddie sighed. His troubles were far from over. But, the truth was, he was glad to be alive.

Chapter Four

Apart from the odd trail of smoke from the valley below, there were no signs of human life at all. Nothing but trees and rocks and the sound of the rain.

After a while, Freddie found the path that appeared to lead off down through the woods. It was steep and overgrown, but wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

The rain was still falling but the branches of the trees gave him some shelter. As he walked, he could make out ruts left by the wheels of a cart and the hooves of a donkey or maybe an ox. His spirits lifted a little more. At least someone had passed this way before.

Soon, he found himself standing at the cross-roads of two paths. To the left, there was a feeling of neglect and stillness. The trees and evergreen bushes dripped with rain. Everything smelled sodden, wet. Oak leaves lay on the ground. The sharp needles of the fir trees bowed low over it.

The right-hand path was much steeper, but more direct. It plunged straight down the mountainside rather than running in a zigzag.

Freddie looked down at his leather shoes. The tips were stained dark and water was seeping in through the soles. He thought of his sturdy hiking boots left in his little car, then sighed. There was nothing to be done.

He took the right hand path. It had a lonely feel to it. There were no fresh wheel tracks. There was no sign that the leaves