Hellsborough Exposed

Nobody agrees what The Don Bog Beast actually is - water-hound, scimitar-cat, or something shaggy and green with the stature of a small demonspawn - and I have started to suspect that's the point, that naming it wrong is how the moor keeps its secrets. What's certain is that something large and singular hunts the source of The Don, high in the Dark Peak's worst ground, and every theory converges on the same stretch of bog.

Snow, then hail, then sleet, then rain - the murk showed me no mercy today, each front arriving exactly when I'd let my guard down. I keep telling myself weather doesn't track a person, that this is just paranoia talking, but I've stopped believing it and started walking faster instead.