Ina wandered Dartmoor for almost a fortnight. "Wandered" may not have been the most accurate way to describe it, but she certainly felt that way.
Yes, she had a map, crudely drawn by the aged, nearly senile brother of Mum Ennis, and she had a general idea of what she was looking for, but the moors of England, much like the deep jungles of Africa and rain forests of South America, were an environment of constant change. The moors weren't completely enveloped by vegetation, but the pure sensory overload of the rolling lands played havoc with any explorer, no matter how prepared or wary they were.
The acidity of the bogs, the odoriferous peat, granite outcroppings everywhere, all interspersed with winding streams and rivers, all-encompassing fog at all hours of day and n...
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