Before breakfast, Ryder walked out of the door and strolled around the centre, long, cool grass tugged at his ankles. Swirls of grey mist trailed around the hills, allowing the morning sun to take its time burning it away. At a hundred metres, he turned to take in the centre. It lay beside a small stream trickling from a nearby lake. The steep, rocky Llwytmor mountain on the south side belied the northern, gentle, green-vegetated slope. He appreciated the way the centre blended into the environment. It might be modern brick and pastel shades inside but was constructed of local slate and gritstone outside. One floor but as large as a school in area, half hidden behind large grey boulders. Still loaded with morning dew diamonds, the shrubs and scattered boulders wore aprons of bright green bilberry, ferns, and grasses. He warmed in appreciation of the isolation and tranquillity. Turning again, he followed a track to the lake in the basin of the vertical mountain walls. In the still water, fish gulping at flies disrupted the reflection of an old jetty.
