Walking on a Wild Side of France 2

I've been experimenting with short story writing style and have rewritten the 'Tale of Yesterday' in the previous but one posting, in the third person, to see what difference it creates. Apart from blog post writing I haven't published any stories and poems, which are mostly based on personal experiences, like many a writer!  Now, if anyone, has thoughts,  I ask for an honest crit, warts and all!   It'sabout 1030 words in length.  Read aloud as a voice tells a story differently than if one reads silently.

I found the exercise useful as it allowed the play of more descriptive passages.  I seem to have spent many hours writing but I enjoy it.   As the wrist is now caput after mowing a lawn, and lifting a basket of very wet grass from the mower as it caught awkwardly and lifting one end of a heavy sofa I've found the simplest of tasks that the right hand is required to do impossible!  However, I can support it on the table as I type! It is strapped!  Annoyingly, it won't let me play the piano!

Walking on a Wild Side of France 2

A Tale of Yesterday

They were blessed with weather that was not wet, windy, hot, cold, blue-skied or cloudy, though a few mackerel clouds had started to form as sunset approached. They were energised as they came to the end of a journey!  It had been an exhilarating fast walk, lasting about two hours, trudging through Autumn leaves with muddy puddles to skirt around, along a route, part of which she had experienced about 6 years ago with a French walking group, and part of which was new to her.   
She loves the circular walks from her house along roads and grassy footpaths, down into the valley, along by the river, weirs and old water mills, high on a cliff ridge, or out on the agricultural plain surrounding woodland and ponds.  Here she can abide with nature, she can wonder at tumbledown stone ruins or stone buildings still in use.  She can wander along ancient walls man-made with stone where moss and fern are prolific. She can smell ancient stones and marvel at the decay of leaves, fungi and trees.  In a different season her heart jumps with joy as birds on the wing sing songs to her whilst they flutter in the coming of Spring.  However, just a few days ago, requiring adventure and stimulus, she considered exploring regions further from her house, which would mean driving the car to starting points where other circular walks could be tested!
Finding a suitable GR track with a signpost, she parked her car on the verge.  Down the narrowing track they set their matching pace scuffing the beautiful autumn-coloured oak leaves, aware of the river on their left, yet a field or so away.  They were walking downhill on rocks and slippery moss, keen to reach a safe vantage, concerned to be out of the way of what they at first heard, then witnessed.  She was worried that the car would uncontrollably slide into them.  An old man had given up trying to rev his squealing old French car up a leafy, slippery-wet slope and had parked in an unlikely place on a track parallel to the rushing river.  Now, he was getting out of his vehicle.  It was comforting to be with a friend where emerging out of a leafy tunnel of trees, they hadn't seen a soul.  It is unusual to meet anyone on a walk in the wilderness of France but she had observed that unwanted thoughts creep into her mind when walking in woodland!
In the same sentence, acknowledging "Bonjour", he said it was beautiful weather and asked if they were afraid, to which she replied "NON". But as he started to walk uphill she asked "Pourquoi?"  Ah, he voiced, hadn't they read or seen information concerning the fact that there might be aggressive persons about!   How spooky and such a strange thing for anyone to say!  Confidently, she affirmed that they were ok and dismissed the subject to enquire if it was his intention to drive uphill, but she couldn't understand what he muttered in his Gallic language.  It wasn't important.  He seemed harmless!
"Bon Journée, Au revoir."
They set off in the opposite direction to continue their exploratory walk, still with the river rushing on the left, and came alongside an escalade; a rock climbing exercise site!  This part she remembered from the only time she had ever walked this way, when she had welcomed the shade of the glade in an extremely hot summer!
Out into open fields, yet following the river, with a field distance between them and it.  Here they walked along a very straight track, waymarked white bar over a red bar.  There was a person approaching, walking alongside his horse!
"Had they seen a boxer dog?"
"NON".
Later, when they came to a junction they looked back and saw him riding the horse in the distance. They wondered how he would find his dog in such a remote area! They wandered around the bend confident that the track was not the way.
"What's that?"
Fortunately, whilst standing on the sidetrack locating their position on the map they were away from danger. They'd heard a rushing of hooves. The horse without a rider galloped round the corner and into a wooded area.  Crazy horse!  Had he thrown his rider?  With no sign of a human being they continued on their travels, for what could they do?  Whereupon, after several minutes, a man could be heard running behind them and was out of breath. He told them that the horse had bolted, afraid of beefy red Limousin cattle, which were processing up a different hill on the other side of the field. On he ran. They followed in the wake of the unseated rider, in the path of the galloping horse, to turn right onto a muddy, puddled, leaf-strewn chemin, through different woodland with a sign to say it was a refuge for pheasants.  Could they read?  Here, her observant friend took note that the horse had come this way as there were recent horse-shoe shapes slewed on the grassy track, and later, fresh horse poo!  They wondered if the rider ever found his horse and dog!!  What a day for HIM... and THEM!
Tracking the map, her friend was intelligent enough to realise that where she thought they were was incorrect!  She was glad that someone was not relying on her because lazily, she hadn't extricated her reading glasses from her bag!  This made quite a difference to reading a map!  River, woodland, power wires, randonnée signs indicated their map location.  If that is the lilac route, then this must be the pale yellow route and so it was that they emerged by the car having walked in an elliptical route.
Home to delicious scones baked earlier that day, served with home-made mirabelle jelly, crème fraîche instead of butter and refreshingly hot 'Earl's Passion' tea in white porcelain cups.  How civilised, as they discussed many things, even remembering the life and death of her friend’s mother and the life and death of her uncle. 

Today: Remembrance Sunday.