Paul and Pauline, twins and competitors in life looked at the fields across from their new home on Ithaca and sighed.

‘Dull.’

‘Dreary.’

‘Nothing to do.’

‘Boring…’

A voice from the kitchen called, ‘If you don’t want me to find a chore for you both, I suggest you go and explore. Do not mope.’

They didn’t need any more encouragement.

‘Field?’

‘Wood?’

‘Race you!’

‘Loser.’

The laughter followed as first Paul then Pauline led through paths and bridleways, over stiles and under gates. As the siblings hurtled round the corner, each straining to get ahead, neither saw the short drop. Both lost their footing and rolled and tumbled through the long grass before ending in a breathless tangle of arms and legs.

‘What’s that?’

‘Eyes?’

‘A giant Viking’s helmet?’

‘Let’s go in.’

‘I don’t know…’

‘Coward!’

‘Race you.’

Paul took the left opening, Pauline the right.

‘The floor’s all sticky.’

‘There’s branches coming out of everywhere.’

What’s that rumble?’

‘Did you feel that draught?’

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