BRAN The ridge slanted sharply from the earth, a long fold of stone and soil shaped like a claw.

Trees clung to its lower slopes, pines and hawthorn and ash, but higher up the ground was bare, the ridgeline stark against the cloudy sky.

He could feel the high stone calling him.

Up he went, loping easy at first, then faster and higher, his strong legs eating up the incline.

Birds burst from the branches overhead as he raced by, clawing and flapping their way into the sky.

He could hear the wind sighing up amongst the leaves, the squirrels chittering to one another, even the sound a pinecone made as it tumbled to the forest floor.

The smells were a song around him, a song that filled the good green world.

Gravel flew from beneath his paws as he gained the last few feet to stand upon the crest.

The sun hung above the tall pines huge and red, and below him the trees and hills went on and on as far as he could see or smell.

A kite was circling far above, dark against the pink sky.