We stumbled across the moor in a ragged line, the youngest of the boys in the middle with Maya's mum and mine.
Aunt Maggie carried a torch (flashlight, for all you Americans!), and she led us across the moor.
The tall wet grass stung my hands as I walked past, but I didn't complain. This was hardly the time for complaints.
Finally, we reached the base of the mountain, and immediately we started hiking upwards.
Finding footholds was simple, but holding on to the slippery grass or using a root to help myself up was much harder in the pouring rain.
"Come on! We need to reach the top soon!" I heard my dad call out from a few feet away. A few feet below me I could hear Maya's brothers, and beside me, Vanessa was gripping a low hanging pine tree branch to pull her self onto the next ledge.
After perhaps a half hour of struggling up the side of the wooded mountain, I heard a whoop of excitement from one of Maya's brothers.
"We're close to the top! I can see were it flattens out!"
"Thank goodness." I muttered, hiking with renewed vigor.
Soon we were all clustered at the top of the mountain.
Turning to look back across the moors, I gasped.
The loch had broken its banks and even more water had rushed out. I could barely see our house, as the muddy water rose around it.
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