I heard the whistling that night, low and prolonged, and then the soft shuffle of feet. Perhaps my hearing was becoming more acute, or maybe I was tuned to the noises the creatures made, for I was the only one awake in the farmhouse. Andrew and Agnes still slept in our old room, with Baby Robert snug between them and a cross of rowan tied to the foot of the bed.
“Andrew.” I shook him awake. “Andrew!”
He woke slowly, staring at me through the yellow glow of candlelight. “Ellen? What is it, lass?”
“I heard the whistling,” I said. “The creatures are out tonight.”
Andrew slid out of bed. “Did you see them?” He pulled on his trousers.
“No; I heard them.”
Andrew checked Agnes and the baby. “I’ll keep watch.” He reached for a staff, with a heavy knob at one end.
“Andy?” Our talking had wak
