Angela came down the mountain with the goats. It had been a long, hot day and the goats had been fractious, but she was feeling very pleased with herself. The pasture on the lower slopes had burnt out long ago and they had had to go higher and higher up the mountain to find decent grazing. Today was the first time she'd taken the goats out on her own and she had found a wonderful glade with good, lush grass.
She looked smugly at the goats. Their coats were glossy and their udders so swollen with milk they almost brushed the ground. "So, why are they being so difficult?" she wondered, having to throw the umpteenth stone that day to divert a wayward goat from wandering off on its own.
A fresh breeze had sprung up and she took off her hat and threw back her head to allow it to ruffle her hair.