I would go there in the afternoon and wait and wait and wait…waiting until the sun melted into the horizon. The tops of the hills would turn amber and it would seem as if it were burning; a fire in sky. By this spot were a stack of rocks. They were silhouetted in the twilight and I could almost believe it were a person standing with me. The rocks and I would nearly always stay at the site until dawn. Just us. Feeling the reborn sun on our backs as it would float into the atmosphere once more.
Autumn was the season of rust. The colours of red and orange completely took over Dartmoor, and were all you could see for miles. It was a complete mistake when I came across another of my favourite views. The castle upon the crest of a stony mound, which looked over most of the moor. It was like it had been fused to the top of the ridge, a necessity to the moor; it was meant to be there. This location was the quietest, since it was the highest spot. The tips of the fort embraced the blue of the sky and cast a large shadow over the rocks and beyond, like an army of soldiers charging towards the