No lights shone from the farmhouse windows. He’d still be asleep, then. Easier to slip in. Hæra glanced at his bedroom window as she passed it. Then, by chance, she looked at the ground beneath it and stopped dead in her tracks.

There were footprints beneath Jonathan’s window.

Hæra frowned down at them. The mud had hardened a little around the prints’ edges. Whoever had left them must have done so hours ago.

She placed her own foot next to a print. The footprint was longer, but its outline was slimmer. Probably because she was wearing boots—there were toeprints too. Someone had been creeping about while barefoot?

Had that someone broken in?

Taking a deep breath, Hæra unlocked the back door and slipped inside. If an intruder awaited her, believing he’d face another human’s strength, he was in for a surprise. If he’d hurt Jonathan, he was in for worse.

Silence and shadows. Nothing moved.

Hæra took a knife from the block and proceeded forward. No muddy footprints in here. Wouldn’t an intruder have tracked dirt in? She caught no unfamiliar scent. She didn’t hear anybody breathing. Her hunter’s instincts felt nothing strange in the air.

Jonathan’s door was shut. She pushed it open slowly, holding her breath. Please…

He lay beneath the duvet, his chest rising and falling regularly. A quick glance round proved him to be the only occupant of the room. Everything looked normal.

Hæra exhaled and shut the door again. Good thing he hadn’t awakened to see her in his doorway brandishing a butcher knife.

She continued her inspection, already knowing that whoever had come last night was long gone. Had someone wanted to burgle them? She’d never heard of a barefoot burglar, and nothing seemed to be missing. None of the windows were ajar or broken; the front door was also locked. The television and computer were still here, and both Jonathan’s and Hæra’s bedrooms looked in order. The strange intruder probably hadn’t entered the house at all.

She hurried out to the barn, still carrying the knife just in case. No intruder lurked there either. No equipment was missing, and that was the most expensive stuff they had. The livestock dotted the green grass and hills. She hadn’t heard any disturbance from them last night.

Then again, she’d been…distracted.

Hæra bit her lip, harder than she’d bitten Madeleine’s. Nothing bad had happened, she reminded herself as she turned back to the farmhouse. Jonathan and Madeleine were both safe, as was the farm.

Disturbed, she replaced the knife and took a quick, cold shower. Then she tried to sneak back to her room, wrapped in a towel…just in time for Jonathan to shuffle through his bedroom door. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and startled to see her.