A dog walker encounters a strange man, his even stranger dog, and a woman who seems to be following him while out on the heath.
This is a quietly unsettling little story, very much in the Robert Aickman vein – atmosphere is key, with the moorland described as both expansive and confining, with its warrens of trails among the gorse, and a sort of twilight over everything. The strange man’s intentions are never disclosed, though the woman’s warnings suggest that they are nefarious indeed, and the narrator’s strange mix of relief and disappointment at not being selected is disconcerting.