THIRTY-THREE
Grieve heard the approaching footsteps, but he didn't look up until he'd finished hammering the shingle into place.
"Almost done!" he called. "Three more to go, and then I'll climb down to show you around!"
He'd be done already if one of the shingles hadn't split overnight, bringing down part of the roof. But that was the thing about wood. It might look perfect at first, and fit just fine with all the rest, but weeks or months or sometimes even years later, the fault deep inside would start to show, and it would c***k, to the detriment of all around it. Much like people, really.
He shot a furtive glance at the witch. She was barely more than a girl herself, of an age with Rhona and Bedelia, which meant he had to tread carefully lest his clumsy tongue land him in trouble
