The moon was full, a few errant clouds scurrying across the indigo sky. The November winds were brisk and Morgan’s skirt swirled around her ankles. She paused when she entered the circle of stones, startled once again by the sense of warmth emanating here.
Frances nodded matter-of-factly. “It’s always this way, dear. A strong force gathers here, especially on a night such as this.” She handed Morgan a twig of white-blossomed heather and smiled. “I found this on my walk yesterday. It seemed a portent of good fortune.”
Morgan’s heart skipped a beat and she managed a shaky smile. “I’m afraid, Frances.”
The older woman sobered. “A good sensible reaction, I would think, to the prospect of traveling through time.” She eyed Morgan for a long moment, then c****d her head. “Do you want to change
