“There’s a faster way,” she said. “If you’re feeling brave.”
I wasn’t, particularly, despite Father Seamus’ teasing. But at the moment I would have followed her anywhere.
For all intents and purposes, the shortcut—the path, or cosán—was invisible to outsiders. To reach it, we tramped behind a stone chapel that Moira explained was opened now only on special occasions. From there, we followed a cow lane along a wall of carefully layered stones. The ground steadily rose and I struggled to stay with her. She walked without hesitation, taking confident steps in her brown corduroy pants and heavy green Wellies. At the end of the wall she turned right, around a massive boulder, and then scampered up a small set of step-like rocks. Suddenly, I was staring at a well-trodden path that cut up and a
