"It's like butting into a wave," John said. "I keep shutting my eyes, ready for the shock."
"Yes." Helen began to talk as though she were alone. "The moor is always like the sea, when it's green and when it's black. It moves, too, gently. And now the air feels like water, heavy and soft. And yet the wind's far more alive than water. I'd like to have a wind bath every day. Oh, I'm glad we live here."
She stumbled, and John caught her by the elbow.
"Want a hand?"
"No, thank you. It's these slippers."
"High heels?"
"No, a stone. I wonder if the fires are out. It's so long since last night. We'd better not go far, John."
"We'll stop at Halkett's turning."
They took the road, and their pace quickened to the drum beats of their feet.
"It sounds like winter," Helen said.