Madeleine tugged her coat around herself as the wind kicked up. Scotland’s Orkney Islands had few trees or high hills, and the ocean was never far. It was a surefire recipe for wind that stung your face and cut through your layers, even in June. “Define ‘impressive,’” she said. “This stone circle isn’t as big or well preserved as some others⁠—”

“Or as circular,” Emma muttered.

“But it’s the oldest in Europe, and the settlement ruins are even older. Isn’t that impressive enough?”

It was true that Jorsay wasn’t the grandest of the Orkney Islands. At fourteen square miles, you could walk the length of it in an hour at a brisk pace—the kind of pace Madeleine preferred. There were fewer than 250 permanent residents. The population rose in summer, but other islands in Orkney had greater claims to fame: bigger cliffs, older churches, longer shores, and visitor centers.

If the island was known for anything, it was its shape, which was remarkably like a horse’s head. In fact, the name “Jorsay” came from the Old Norse word for steed: jór. Centuries later, it now roughly translated to “Horse Island,” so named by the Norsemen who’d swept into the islands in the eighth century, conquering the populace. They had, for a time, brought horses with them. The few souvenirs for sale in the island shops tended to be horse themed.

Currently, Madeleine stood in the easternmost part of the island, where Orkney’s most ancient artifacts sat. Wind flattened the green grass and clover beneath her shoes. Just beyond a hillock rose the cliffs: rough faces of ruddy sandstone and marl that stood firm against the pounding surf. Nature’s dramatic variety was always a wonder and a gift.

To the north, there lay a path that led down to a strip of pale sand. Madeleine cast her gaze down to that little beach, closed her eyes, and smiled at the wind in her face. It might be chilly and gray, but it was God’s day nevertheless. She was lucky to be standing here in a place so different from her home, taking it all in.

It was too bad the students didn’t feel the same way, but they were still young. Hopefully, the time would come when they’d know to embrace each moment. Part of Madeleine’s job was to teach them that, but only experience would drive it home.

When she turned, the Sacred Heart girls stood in a cluster, looking askance at the grass dotted with standing stones. Supposedly there had been ten stones originally erected during the Bronze Age. Now only four remained, worn down by time.