It was a surprisingly fine September day for the West Highlands, and although a strange white mist hung rather ominously over the ridges in the distance, it felt comfortably warm in the hazy sunshine. Algy decided to spend the afternoon just wandering around the local landscape, admiring the colours of the moorland in all its autumn glory, and sticking his beak into patches of heather to make sure that they smelled of honey. As he inhaled the comforting scent of the tiny flowers in one particular clump, he remembered a much less pleasant afternoon he had spent in that very same spot, on the first day of February this year – and he began to wonder what the coming winter would bring…

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