Stealing Souls - Part Two

The Pagan Trails Marathon and the Man in the Yellow Jacket

The next few miles were some of the hardest of the day. There was a long stretch of open moorland with Stannon Tor to our right. Though the gradient was fairly forgiving and felt like we should be able to make decent progress, the ground was so muddy and tussocky that it was impossible to continue running for more than a few steps at a time.

Yellow Jacket was gaining on us. His walking poles were out, and they enabled him to navigate the tussocky ground far quicker than we could. The cheating bastard.

‘He’s catching us up,’ I said to Rachel.

‘So what? Does it really matter that much if he beats us?’ she said.

‘Errrr… no? I guess not,’ I said, knowing that it actually mattered a lot. Our souls were at stake.