The wind carried a mournful tune across the glen. It was the kind of sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, not because it was cold, but because it felt alive.
Fiona MacLeod pressed her tartan scarf tighter around her neck and squinted toward the grey outline of her family’s old croft. It had been ten years since she last set foot in Kinbrae, the wee Highland village that folk said time had forgotten.
