He came out of the Forest at Dunsany Crag as night was falling, stood for a moment looking down into the dale.  The sky above was bruising steadily to black.  The winking lights of villages showed like clusters of votive candles across the valley floor.  He heard a dog bark in the distance; the iron clank of a farm gate as it closed.  Breathed deep, as if trying to catch odours to go with these faint sounds of human habitation.  He shoved the cut-down McCulloch trench gun into the leather sh...