By midafternoon, the temperature was dropping, and the air smelled of rain: earthy, the atmosphere’s moisture calling scent from soil. The omnipresent clouds grew darker and heavier overhead. The hairs on the back of Hæra’s neck remained up.

Jonathan stayed inside, saying he had work to do on the computer in case the storm took out the electricity.

“We never lose the electricity,” Hæra said, trying to sound calm. “Remember?”

“Aye, your little friend.” Jonathan didn’t look away from the screen. “I’d rather not completely trust to him, if it’s all the same to you.” His index finger clicked the mouse. “I’ve never seen him, after all.” He clicked again. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s real.”

“You’re joking.” Hæra’s mouth was dry. “Why would I invent such a thing? Do you believe it’s coincidence we’ve suffered no damage from storms in the past five years?”

“How should I know what to believe?” He began to type, furiously. “Sorry. I’m in a pisser of a mood. Best to leave me to myself. Go on, now.”

She had no choice but to go on. It would make things worse to push; when he was truly upset, Jonathan dug in his heels. Setting her jaw, Hæra left.

The sky had darkened since she’d gone into the house. The air had sharpened. For the first time in her life, Hæra wished she’d put on a jacket.

From a distance, thunder rolled. The storm was nearly here. But that’d be all right. They’d be all right. It was always all right.

Wasn’t it?

After supper, the rain began.

The wind lashed it into their faces as they secured the barn and urged the dogs into the safety of the sheep pens. As usual, the sheep and cattle themselves would wait it out in the fields. It would be a colossal effort to round up hundreds of animals for one night’s storm, especially since you’d have to roam over the hills and fields to collect them all. There wasn’t time.

Jim shielded his face from the rain with his jacketed hand. “I’d best be getting home,” he said, his voice loud over the wind. “Isla’s texted four times.”

“Married life!” Connor laughed. They hurried together toward their cars.

Hæra turned to Madeleine, who had her hood pulled up and was visibly shivering in the cold and wet. “You should go back to the cottage,” she said.

The rain left beads of water on Madeleine’s nose and cheeks. “Aren’t you coming too? Don’t you need to stay indoors in case Calder sees you?”

“I’ll be there soon.” Hæra looked at where the Gator waited by the fence post, the only piece of equipment she hadn’t put into the barn. “There’s just one thing I need to check. Quickly.”