The hill did not brood. It was not a looming presence above the peaceful town, nor somewhere people glanced nervously when thunder echoed down the valleys. And then, one day, with the sun high in a cloudless sky, it spat fire.
They walked from the foot of the hill to its head. Nobody had told them the volcano was still live – and then the mouth
The coat stood out against the dying grass on the hillside. Anyone passing would have seen it.
She shrugged the coat back onto her shoulders and turned her gaze to the sky, away from the tree that leaned from the North Sea wind. Her jaw was gently set, as if the clouds troubled her at first. Then her face smoothed and her soft eyes saw the distance, saw the future.
(Inspired by http://www.broaddaylightltd.co.uk)