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Back Time for the Dead Save as PDF
Chapters (94)
  1. Cover
  2. Time for the Dead
  3. Dedication page
  4. Map
  5. Epigraph page
  6. Prologue
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. Epilogue
  92. Acknowledgements
  93. About the Author
  94. By Lin Anderson

Eventually she made her decision. Her tracing of what looked like paw prints in the damp sand, plus the thought that Seven was unlikely to have descended the gully only to head for the bay, prompted Rhona to begin to make her way in an easterly direction, keeping close to the rock face.

The strip of foreshore moved between sand and rough stones. Sometimes wide, with the sea sufficiently far away. At other times too narrow for comfort, the rocks slippery underfoot with seaweed. Each time she picked her way across a stony part she swiftly searched for paw print evidence on reaching the other side. Those moments were the most frightening.

The sea, when it reached here, if given the slightest chance, could sweep anyone off their feet, including the determined collie.

On each of these occasions, Rhona called out the ‘here to me’ command Donald had taught her, then waited, hoping against hope that the collie would hear her and respond. He never did and eventually the stony foreshore took over completely, and with it the trail she was following.

She stood for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. The dog had come this far, that she was certain of. So where had Blaze gone now?

Standing there, she felt the first brush of the incoming tide around her feet like a warning of what was to come.

The foreshore had to all intents and purposes disappeared and before her stood an arch on its way to becoming a stack, like one of MacLeod’s Maidens. To get through the arch would involve getting wet, very wet. And with no knowledge of how deep the water was and how rough it would be underfoot.

The dog, having arrived here some time before her, might well have found the going easier, with the ability to walk beneath the arch before the incoming tide had reached here. Alternatively, the sure-footed dog may have chosen a different route, and climbed over the rocky outcrop.

Having studied both possible ways in the moonlight, Rhona had to admit that there was little chance of her being able to climb the rock and descend the other side. Her main option seemed therefore to lie in negotiating a passage through the arch, regardless of how wet that would make her.

The one thing she could not imagine doing was giving up.

In the end, however, the decision was made for her.

A sound she thought she might never experience again, she now thought she’d heard. Rhona stood stock-still and strained to listen through the crash of the waves against the outer region of the arch.

‘Blaze?’ she said, hardly daring to hope.

The bark was partially drowned out by the surge of the sea against the rocks, but it was definitely there. And it hadn’t come from above, but rather from further along the shore.

Bracing herself, Rhona stepped under the arch and into the water.

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