A combination of weak autumn sunshine and a southerly breeze dried the track sufficiently to allow them to leave Anton’s Walls. Thomas drove slowly, with Eleanor lost in thought as the Crossley bumped and jolted over the ruts. Blackhouse Tower was as gaunt as she remembered, with the crow back in residence, watching them leave as it had watched them arrive. His companion was at the opening of the track, standing as if he had never moved, and the intervening time had not elapsed.
Everything seemed as before, and Eleanor wondered if she had ever imagined the knight on the moor or discovered the grave beneath the cellar. She fondled the ring, knowing that her life had changed, although she was unsure how.
Sharon greeted them with a smile as they stepped into the inn. “I was getting worried
