At least she no longer had the dull beat of tiredness behind her eyes, she thought as she woke one morning soon after to the drip of melting frost on the window ledge. She stood and looked out at a fantastical mist hanging heavy over the land, trees emerging like islands from the billowy mass. Luna watched until the sun began to bear down upon the scene and the mist cleared. It was going to be one of those unexpectedly sunny winter days. These were Pippo’s favourite, when he’d rush outside and Mamma Lucrezia would chide him for forgetting the cloak that kept a winter sickness at bay. Luna could picture her little brother so clearly, tumbling down the grassy slope of one of those distant hills, over and over, dirty-kneed and laughing. She held onto his laughter as she dressed, looking out to those hills, hoping to hear him again.

When she set out that morning, Luna didn’t turn towards the kitchen garden and the chicken coop, but rather went out through the entrance yard with the intention of exploring a section of the estate she’d yet to walk. A group of labourers were already trudging towards the fields. They carried scythes over their shoulders and the sharp edges cut crescent shapes against the sky. The trees were motionless in the cold air and the sun shone crisply. She wore a warmer cloak she’d borrowed from Elisabetta and her cheeks stung in the brisk air.

A walking track led away from the road and she set off with a shiver of determination. She could almost hear Pippo in the wind, calling to her. The band of farmhands in their loose-fitting leather smocks were on a distant hill, a smudge of shifting shapes against the horizon. Their singing carried to her on the fresh breeze. Her skirts flapped playfully and she thought again of how much Pippo would love the freedom of these hills. Her dress was more suited to a convent than to hill walking, but she no longer owned a full wardrobe and took little interest in her clothes. She regretted not tying up her hair as the wind tossed it with relentless abandon. The knots would take her all evening to brush out.