As I walked along the familiar path, I made a rule that I wasn’t allowed to touch my hair; I had to let the wind do what it liked.

The wind stayed in the same direction for about a minute. I bumped into a stile and fell over a stone, but on the whole was doing quite well. Then the wind changed again.

My hair blew back and I saw, on the path, Cain with his dog.

The Divil Himself.

The wind had blown his fringe down over his eyes, and he had a black leather coat on with the collar turned up and leather gloves.

I felt my heart lurch.

The air around him seemed charged with energy. It’s annoying, but you can’t help sort of “feeling” him. He wasn’t moving, just standing there looking at me.

I couldn’t turn round and go back home. Anyway, why should I? I’ll walk straight past him with Northern grit.

He was still looking at me from under his eyelashes. Then, without looking away, he made a chucking noise with his teeth. Was he chucking at me?

How rude.

But then from the branch above him a feathery bombshell flew down onto his outstretched glove and then another one. Owlets!!! It was Little Lullah and Little Ruby! I forgot about him and ran up to see them. They were tugging at something he was holding in his glove . . .

I said, “Oh, oh, it’s them. What are you feeding them?”

He looked up at me with his dark eyes and held mine for a moment, then cast his gaze down to the owlets. “Baby shrews.”

He was an animal!

The owlets gulped the baby shrews down. They looked like they were smiling all the time they were doing it. They probably were.

It reminded me of my dream about being a shrew and Dr. Lightowler looking at me, ready to eat me.

But they weren’t like Dr. Lightowler—they were my children. My wild children.

I couldn’t help myself. I went nearer to them and said softly, “It’s me, big Lullah, hellloooooooo.”

Fortunately, I remembered not to fluff myself up or do the blinky-eye thing. They looked at me and cheeped. It made me want to burst into tears with love. And now they were doing head-swiveling!! For me, they were swiveling their heads for me. No one has ever swiveled their head for me. I put my finger out and touched each of their tiny feathery chests. They cheeped again as the shrew tails disappeared into their beaks.

Then Cain shook his glove and said, “Get gone now, you two lazy arses, get hunting.”

Both of them plummeted to the ground, took a few staggering steps, and then careened off into the air.

I shouted after them, “See you soon! Come back to the barn—I’ll bring snacks!”

For the first time Cain smiled his crooked, mean smile. “Bloody hell, tha’s barmier than I remember, soft lass.”

I was determined to hold my ground. Then he licked his lips and leaned back against the fence, crossing his arms and putting one leg over the other.