The Way The Wind Blows

Varooom!

Rich passes Gaius and Arthur, and stops in front of Proust, raising a dust cloud.

Cough! Ahem! Good morning, coughs Proust, glad of a reason for stopping.

Good morning, says Rich. On your way to Mangalia?

I am, says Proust. How far is it?

Not far, says Rich. And your companions?

We all are, says Proust. We seek the Morvine cave, but perhaps I ought not to mention it. Marcel Proust, by the way, clown and microbiologist.

Rich Boden, says Rich Boden. Microbiologist.

What a coincidence, says Proust.

Gaius and Arthur have dismounted and sensibly waited for the dust to settle.

Good morning! says Gaius. Fine day!

It is, says Rich Boden. The grass is bending in a good way this morning.

Everyone looks at the grass.

He's right. It is bending towards Mangalia, where they are going.

I see what you mean, says Gaius.

I assume you're all going to the Custodians meeting, says Rich.

The Custodians meeting....? says Proust.

Yes, we are, says Arthur.

Gaius isn't listening. He is bending down, examining the grass.

Yes, the Group for Underwater and Speleological Exploration, and the Local Council of Mangalia, says Rich. Should be a good meeting. See you there then!

He gets on his scooter.

The wind blows his hair forward, and into his eyes.

(By this we can see that the wind is indeed blowing towards Mangalia).

Before puttering off down the road, Rich has one more question:

By the way, I don't suppose you've seen another group of three riders?

No, says Proust. We would have noticed another group of three riders.

Hmmm, says Rich. recommencing his puttering.

Off he goes, his hair blowing back from his face now.

Nice chap!  says Gaius. Very observant.

Behind them, Arthur hears something purring.

The sound of a Jeep