On the whole, it was a relief to note that he was occupied.
For a few moments Grace let her eyes wander up the dale to the crags where the force leaped down from the red moor at Malton Head.

Belts of dry bent-grass shone like gold and mossy patches glimmered luminously green.

The fall looked like white lace drawn across the stones.

A streak of mist touched the lofty crag, and above it a soft white cloud trailed across the sky.

Then she turned as her brother spoke.
"Alan has given us a good hunt and means to make a kill.