Dylan’s eyes dropped to something Gavin was holding in his hand. I followed his gaze to see it was a chisel. In his other hand was a block of wood.

‘Oh, yes, this,’ Gavin said, lifting the wood. It was the initialled carved sign I’d seen on the barn Dylan had made, engraved with D E C.

‘Half of it belongs to me by rights, doesn’t it? Like this land.’ Gavin spat. ‘So I’m taking it.’

‘Of course, Gavin, take it,’ Dylan replied in a conciliatory tone, like he was talking to a child.

‘I say half, but I own more than half of this land, don’t I?’ Gavin said, stumbling slightly as he spread his arms out and looked around him. ‘I own all of this. Mine, not the McCluskys’.’

‘That hasn’t been proven yet.’

Gavin suddenly stormed towards Dylan and me. Dylan quickly moved in front of me, protecting me. But there was no need: Gavin just walked past us. ‘Not long until it is,’ he shouted over his shoulder.

‘Is everything okay?’ I asked.

‘Just some stupid, long-drawn-out argument over land,’ Dylan shot back. ‘Let’s head back.’

I knew he wasn’t telling me the whole story. But I just had to take him at his word. I sighed and followed Dylan as Gavin veered off, heading towards the other side of the loch to get to his house. When Dylan and I reached the lodge, I could see the farmhouse clearly across the loch beneath the winter sun. I watched as Gavin’s wife Rosa appeared, a small speck in the distance. Gavin stumbled towards her and sank to his knees, sobbing as he looked up at her.

As Rosa slowly bent down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her head pressed gently against his, she looked up and noticed me watching. Then she stared at the loch, taking in its icy surface.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Amber

Audhil Loch

23 December 2009

The loch has iced up, the snow settling onto it. Amber takes it all in: the stunning mountain, the snow-tipped trees beyond them, the burnt lodge. No doubt once as beautiful as its surroundings but now charred and broken.

What had happened to it?

Lumin seems to be thinking the same as she regards it, her lips pursed into a straight line.

They draw closer. While the building’s ground floor has clearly fallen into disrepair, with boarded-up windows soggy with moss and evidence of fire damage here and there, it’s more intact than the second floor, where the main damage appears to have happened. The roof has collapsed on one side, snow gathering at its jagged charred edges, ice spreading over the rotting black wood making it look like a beetle’s shell.