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But there *is* light. I stop in my tracks, breathing heavily, whetherfrom my normal exertions or not, I'm not certain. I turn slowly. This isn'tright… in the everyday life of a commuter, you always see some odd sights,but the trick is to keep going, and just gawk at them in passing without makingyourself any later than you are already. This is because, given the uniquenature of the south east of England's public transportation system, constantlyteetering on the edge of chaos, you are virtually always late for something.Yet, I know, I am certain, that I cannot take one more step, not if my lifedepends on it. For I see before me…a ghost. It has to be a ghost. It is translucent, it glows, a glow like phosphorescenceon a cave wall, a quiet greenish light. Against the blank background of thearch, she is a photographic negative. She. Yes, it is a woman. I stare. She stares back. My mouth is dry, and I am finding difficulty inswallowing. What does one say to a ghost? "Hello?" The word. It turned out that the river I was travelling along wasn’t the river that I had thought it was. I’d been centring my drone sweeps on me and the river every day without achieving any success. Then on the fourth morning there I’d spotted a plume of smoke in the distance, across the river and further south of my location. At that time the power pack of the drone was recharging so I decided to check out the smoke the old fashion way. I went in search of a place to cross the river and when I found one, I did just that. The water was deep, but not too deep. I did have to lift my feet to keep them dry, but that was all I had to do. It took fifteen minutes to cross the river, and then after I’d made certain that my horses were fine and my gear was still dry, I moved on. I did so at a slow pace, not wanting to ride into trouble. A half hour later I was hidden behind a growth of brush, high on a bluff that overlooked the river I’d been looking for, looking down at the compound. To my surprise.
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