I seemed to spend a lot of time sneaking around the steading at night, which is strange considering my fear of the dark. “Are you coming, Agnes?”
“Not me.” Agnes lay on the bed. “I’m not up to adventuring the night.”
That suited me, for I would be quieter alone. As Agnes was heavily pregnant, I did not think she should creep about in the near-winter dark anyway.
The wind carried a bite as it slid from the hills, cutting through my coat and skirt, and scouring my exposed face and hands. Wrapping my scarf around my face, I stepped into the night, searching for the lantern-light that would show where Mr Lunan walked. It took only a few moments to find him, with the yellow glow bouncing against the steading’s rough stones and the steady tramp of Mr Lunan’s feet echoing in the dark. As alway
