We both got up and as I bent to rake out the fire, Rushton looked around the shack slowly. When his gaze found its way back to me, we stared at one another for a long transfixed moment then he laughed and said, ‘If we had trouble being distracted by thoughts of one another before, it will be impossible now!’

We tidied the remnants of our meal away before heading back to the house along the most direct route. It was very early and very cold and the ground was sodden as we wove our way through the bedraggled tents that lined both sides of the path beside the maze. But I noticed a lot of hay had already been laid down to cover the mud, and the sky was clear pale blue. There was not a breath of wind.

My head ached a little and my body felt tender, but I was careful to give no sign of it, lest Rushton again worry that he had hurt me. It was impossible to explain that this soft, heavy, wounded feeling was sweet.

As we passed Jacob’s grave, my steps faltered and I stopped, almost able to imagine the old man setting his journal and the plast suit in the empty grave before he left Obernewtyn for the last time. ‘I wonder if he really did go into the mountains,’ I said.

I did not realise I had spoken my thought aloud until Rushton enfolded me in his arms from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder, saying, ‘I do not know why this old riddle interests you so, my love.’

I turned and kissed him lightly, thinking that he did know, but that he could not remember. The thought pained me, but we went on hand in hand, until we reached the side door that would bring me to the Farseekers hall. I stopped. ‘I will go in this way,’ I said.

‘I wish that our paths need never diverge in even the smallest way,’ Rushton said, but then he kissed me gently and went on along the path towards the front entrance.