Mist

She didn’t know which way to go. She stood at a crisscross of paths intersecting each other in front of her. The mist was low, hanging in shifting curtains all around her, sometimes swirling this way, sometimes that, sometimes giving a quick glimpse of the way ahead, or of the long, flat plain to her left or the steep rocky outcrop to her right.

She had managed to get this far in the mist by keeping to the edge of the gravel path, where the stones met the grass edge.

The dampness of the mist clung to her clothes, her hair, even her eyebrows in tiny droplets, settling on her as she stood trying to make sense of where she was and where she was to go next. All her senses were straining to pick up any piece of useful information. The mist seemed to have muffled all sound, no birds were singing, the low land noises which had accompanied her at the start of her hike drifting up from below, were gone, a distant shout, or a dog bark, the faint sound of an engine revving or the faraway hum of the motorway, all gone, shut out by this thick, white, wet curtain. It also seemed to dampen all scent. She could no longer smell the rich, pungent whiff of sheep or the fragrant aroma of the bright yellow flowering gorse. There was no smell of newly wet earth you get when it rains, nor even the rotting vegetation that becomes a fungal spore scent. Just a cold dampness, condensing on the inside of her nose.

It had been bright sunshine when she had set off 2 hours ago. As she had parked her car and begun to get ready for her hike, she had seen the clouds rolling over the very tops of the mountains, but it looked as though her planned route would be clear. She had topped her first peak and was walking across a plain between peaks when there seemed to be a shift in the wind, and the mist dropped lower, engulfing her way. From this bowl between the peaks, the paths lead down different sides of the mountain, so setting off along the incorrect path could bring her down far away from her car. She had planned to carry on up the next peak, but had already decided that would be a mistake in this thick mist.

In a sudden moment of inspiration, it occurred to her that she was free to choose whichever path she liked, but she didn’t know, nor could she see, the consequences of her choice. With the mist so low and close, her sight was restricted, and she couldn’t see what the results would be of her decision. What she needed was someone to come along the path which she needed to take, to tell her what was there, and which path it was that would lead her back to her car.

She pulled out her map, glad that she had unfolded and refolded it to have her hike on the front in the waterproof map case. She could trace her route on the map so far and see the cross-path section she had come to. But translating that to the reality in front of her was more difficult. There seemed to be more paths on the ground than marked on the map.

As she considered her situation, she felt that she should feel afraid, but she didn’t. Checking her heart and emotions again, she concluded, no, she didn’t feel afraid. She thought the lack of fear was odd. Usually in this kind of circumstance, the first thing that would go through her would be fear, welling up within her, causing her mind to fog and her body to shake. She paused again, listening to her own reactions; there seemed to be joy inside. At first, it was just a little speck deep down inside her. But it grew and grew until it reached and filled her heart, bursting out in a huge smile that spread across her face.

It was such a relief to realise that fear had no place in her. There was an answer as to which path to take, and somehow, she knew that it would be revealed to her. She looked down at the map again, placing her finger on the case to point out to herself where she was.

Then, she thought she heard footsteps ahead and the sound of heavy breathing. She strained her eyes forward, trying to make out anything in the mist, which continued to swirl and thicken. Suddenly, from the mist, a figure emerged and seemed to appear right in front of her. It was a man with unruly, wavy hair, a neat, clipped beard and kind, deep-sea blue eyes. He was looking at her as if he recognised her.

‘Hello, are you lost?’ He asked.

‘Hello,’ she replied. She thought for a moment. ‘I’m not lost.’ She said, ‘I know where I am, I’m just not sure of the way ahead, of which path to take. It’s not clear with this mist.’

‘Are you wanting to head back down the mountain?’ He asked.

‘Yes.’ She replied, ‘I was going to go on the next peak, but I don’t think that would be wise in this mist, I’m aiming to get back to my car, which is parked by the lake.’

‘Oh, that’s where I’ve just come from,’ exclaimed the man. ‘That’s the path you need right there.’

He pointed to one of the paths off to the right.

‘The mist thins out just a few metres down there, you’ll see the way clearly once you get going.’

‘Thank you very much.’ She said as she tucked her map under her arm, ready to look at it again once she emerged from the mist, to assess her location, and set off along the recommended path.

As she moved off, she turned around to say goodbye and enjoy the rest of your walk to the man with unruly, wavy hair, a neat, clipped beard and deep-sea blue eyes.

But there was no one there.