Busha Davis tell Busha Annand I is a good stonemason, can job me out, make money from me. And after a while Busha Annand come to know he can also trust me. I get made head jobber, the one that turn the slaves out. Make sure they do the jobs we get sent out to do, make sure they better than good. I work them fair, but hard. This jobbing business make my life content. It give me the thing I been craving. Respect and plenty freedom.

One evening, I set out back to Ginger Hill after I spend two days repairing a stone wall that turn to rubble. Get mash down every time the cows try to cross. Is late, me tired, me belly rumbling. I decide to take a shortcut, head off cross the fields. Halfway to the other side, I notice a light wavering in the distance, moving in the other direction. Most times, I just go bout me business, but for some reason I decide to find out what they up to, behind that wavering light.

Is a full moon. Easy for me to see the way, until the clouds start to gather. Make rings round the moon, cover her up, and I feel the coolness of the dark surround me. Most times I welcome it, mean I can fold into the shadow places like I used to, when I was a pickney. But then the light in the distance wink out, leave me idle, alone in the middle of the field. I feel a great fear rise up. What if the light belong to slave hunters or backra out on patrol and they circle me, point a gun at me heart? How to explain what me up to? Is then I remember what Calla told me bout the shadow. How it keep the mind in chains. Pull you down, because the chains bloated with fear.

Suddenly I see the light way off at the other end of the field, almost like it calling out to me. Like it is fighting against the shadow. So I buck up me courage, set off quick, hurrying to catch up to that flickering light.