Isaac saw, to his right, a series of mounds that he took to be ruins because they rose from the landscape in an unnatural way. Then, not much farther down the road, solid objects pushed into the sky from the flat marshes and moors, monoliths silhouetted against the growing light, sharp and tall, about a half mile off toward the sea.

Isaac’s heart began to pound. The ring of stones. He pointed.

The farmer spoke rapidly, waving his hand. Isaac clutched his pack to his chest, feeling the solid casket through the canvas.

A creature was perched on the tallest stone.

Isaac leaned his face against the cold glass window. There was barely enough light to make it out. But as they passed, the creature spread great wide wings and lifted into the sky, and as it did, it turned its head.

Eyes as red as burning coals. Isaac’s monster.

It swooped and turned and sped westward across the land, straight toward the moving lorry. Straight for Isaac, those eyes seeming to pierce the lorry and look right at him.

Icy terror spread through Isaac. Then a hum sang into his brain, a low and painful hum, and he threw his hands over his ears.

The monster passed overhead with a deep whoosh, and the farmer spoke again, craning his neck to look up through the front window of the cab.

“What is that?” Isaac whispered.

The farmer gestured, making the sign to ward off evil, and said words—repeated words over and over, his voice louder and louder—then clutched the steering wheel with white knuckles and pressed flat down on the gas, and the lorry jerked forward.

Isaac gripped the edge of his seat and tried to breathe. But that hum, that painful hum. And the nightmare—no, it was too real to be only a dream—of fire and fight he’d had as he held that cold orb clutched in his fist, the orb now inside the casket in his pack.

Just then the sun slipped above the horizon, bathing the entire landscape in rosy pink. The monster disappeared as if it couldn’t abide the light, and the deep throbbing hum was replaced by silence.

When they reached the ferry landing, Isaac shook sweaty hands with the farmer, who gave him a narrow-eyed look and scuttled away.

Isaac shared the ferry across the Firth with a large number of servicemen. They lined the rails, watchful, searching the waters for U-boats.

But Isaac had his own worries, as he kept an eye on the islands growing smaller behind, searching the skies hoping not to see that flying monster chasing the waves.

Chasing him.

*   *   *

In Scrabster, Isaac found the bus to the village of Craig, a couple of hours south, paying his fare with almost his last bit of coin. Isaac sat on the jostling bus, clutching his pack, the hard lump of the casket pushing the pendant into his skin.