Sidra knelt in Graeme’s yard as the sun rose. The wind was silent that morning. Only the light strengthened, burning away the last of the mist. Sidra savored the stillness as she watched the world awaken around her. But her heart soon grew heavy as she beheld the garden. The glamour was gone, and she saw the damage she had wrought weeks ago.

She began to gently uproot the weeds and broken stalks. She would have to replant, and she was preparing the soil for new seeds when she heard a distant sound. It was Torin’s voice, calling her name.

“Sidra?”

She rose, searching for him. She was alone in the yard, although the front door to Graeme’s cottage was open, and she could smell the first aromas of breakfast as he cooked.

“Sidra!”

Torin’s voice was louder now, and she walked through the garden, slipping past the gate. She arrived at the crest of the hill and looked down toward her lands.

Torin was walking up the path, Maisie on his hip.

A sound escaped from Sidra. The break of a sob. She covered her mouth with her dirt-streaked hand just as Maisie caught sight of her. The girl flailed and kicked, eager to be free of her father’s hold, and Torin set her down.

Maisie began to run up the winding path in the heather. Sidra rushed to meet her, falling to her knees and opening her arms.

“Oh, my darling,” Sidra whispered as Maisie embraced her neck. She caressed the child’s curls, breathing her in. She wondered if she was dreaming and said, “Let me look at you, my heart.”

She leaned back to study Maisie’s face, rosy from the chilled morning. Her eyes were still wide and brown, full of light and curiosity. She had lost another tooth while she was away, and Sidra didn’t realize she was weeping until Maisie solemnly laid her palm to her cheek.

Sidra smiled, even as her tears fell. She held her daughter close to her chest, hiding her face in Maisie’s wispy hair. She could sense Torin’s presence as he reached them. He slowly lowered himself to the ground, his warmth seeping into her side.

“Don’t cry, Mummy,” Maisie said, patting her shoulder.

Sidra wept even harder.

The girls returned home on a blue sky day.

The southern wind was warm and gentle, and the wildflowers bloomed in the fullness of the rising sun. The heather danced on the breeze with violet abandon. The tide was low on the shores, the lochs glistened, and the rivers flowed. The hills were quiet, and the roads were like threads of gold in a green plaid as Adaira rode with the guard, bringing Catriona home to her parents on the coast, and Annabel home to her parents in the vale.