The land ahead fell away into a shallow valley. Steve lay on his front, unzipped a pouch and took a pair of green binoculars out. Spending time scouring the forest for movement, all was still so he packed them away. The wind rasped his ears as he strolled back down the hill and over the bridge, turning toward the woodland. Passing along a grassy edge, he reached a point where the stream ran close to the trees. The waters trickled and the bank gave way to sand and pebbles. Steve leapt over the stream and his boots thudded on the other side. Scrambling uphill, he climbed over a barbed wire fence. It angled away with his weight and swayed until he grabbed a tree and jumped into the final field. This was his usual entry point to the forest.

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