As he paused, his hoary breath slowed after the dash from the forest. Left. Nothing. Right. Nothing. The track showed nothing, but that meant little, for there were dangers secreted everywhere. High above, he could hear the waves lapping in the gusty, North-easterly wind, straight from the Steppes.

There were three of them that morning, and as the light faded, he was the only one left. For a few moments, his smallness lingered in his thoughts. After all, what difference could he make, in the bigger scheme of things?

The backpack felt heavier and he reminded himself that the purpose of the mission must be his focus for the next few minutes. Looking around at the silence once more, he lowered the canvas bag to the floor and retrieved the small, intricate mechanism. He would only have one opportunity, for the patrols were consistent along the roadway that ran along the top.

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Brickwork was all that was between them these days, and little good it did, for they hadn’t spoken for over thirty years, for a reason neither chose to remember.

Now, each of them left alone in the world, they continued with their long-forgotten feud. Two women whiling away the dog days of their lives empty and routine, of no comfort to anyone, least of all themselves.

The doorbell rang on a Tuesday, much to Mildred’s surprise.

She woke from her mid-morning doze with a jump and hurried as best she could to the door, checking her hair and other presentation as she passed the hall mirror. Not perfect, but she would do.

“Hello, Mrs Jenkins, how are you today?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he bustled his way through his bag.

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