“Simon tripped lightly on a root or twig, and swore, “Fuck”. That made him feel a bit better, but still the sweat trickled down his back, and his hair felt a sticky mess. Worst were his trousers, clinging to his legs, like wet plaster. Even worse than worst was the continuing coolness of the air, making the sweat feel like ice melting fire. He shoved his way through a mash of branches, needles stabbing his face, then stopped. He was on the edge of a small cliff”
Excerpt From: “Sky Man Nov 21, 2016.” iBooks.