"Alone?"
The solitary word hung in the cool, evening air. The girl's feet drew together, the toe of her shoe pressing into the floor as seemed to be her habit when she was anxious.
"Aye, alone," said the wiry, dark-eyed man standing over her. He placed a light shawl around her shoulders and gave her back an awkward pat. "You know what you're doing. You're ready."
She spoke no further words, though the wrinkles in her brow and the vividness of her brown eyes said enough. She stared out the front door of the cottage, watching the summer twilight deepen over the hills. Crickets took up a gentle song in the long grass along the rough-hewn fence, and beyond lay the slopes of the grazing lands, stretching away to the horizon. Beside her, the tail of the black-and-white sheepdog thumped against the floor.
"Go on, then," the man prompted, with a dash of impatience beneath his tone. The same, large hand that had just patted her now became a tool of command, pushing her forward. Her feet stumbled a bit. The dog rose to its feet and looked up at her, expectant.
She brushed a pesky strand of untamed and unruly hair behind her ear, looked down at the dog, and jerked her chin towards the doorway. Padded paws trotted happily forward, leading the way, and she followed, clutching a sturdy, wooden staff in her left hand. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she passed from the firelit comfort of the house into the falling darkness, without another word or glance to the man who stood watching.
