Rae returned home that evening singing. Not actually singing—she couldn’t find words large enough. But as she ran through the darkening meadow toward the yellow light of her home and Mop and Ness, she felt everything—sky and hill and forest and field—singing through her. Even in the dark she knew each rock and tussock and dip in the land; her feet carried her rushing across the hillside and along the banks of the stream. Everything was as it should be. She felt full. Whole. Night was cresting over the hills; she felt all its stars tumbling through her, running with her as she bounded through the dew-soaked grass.

“Mop!” she cried when she found her father outside. She leapt to hug him, but he—frowning, serious—held her at arm’s length.

“Rae.” His frown deepened. “Where have you been?”

Rae, startled by the severity in his voice, stepped back. “In the forest.”

“I called and called for you.”

“I was just—” She gestured to the hills. “I wasn’t gone long. Not longer than usual.”

“No.” Mop’s voice softened, but the lines on his face collapsed further. He hugged her, burying her in his arms. “You had us so worried.”

“Mop?” Only now did Rae notice the great pile of wood he’d stacked in the middle of the field and a chair set beside the pile. “What’s that?”

Mop didn’t answer. “Go inside. Nessa has supper waiting.”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll eat out here. Now go inside. Quick. Ness is worried, too.”

Rae was scarcely through the door when Ness enveloped her much as Mop had, burying her against her body. “Daughter,” Rae heard muffled through Nessa’s arms and woolly shawl. “Wherever have you been? Mop and I searched the fields for you for hours.”

Only half releasing Rae, Nessa propelled her into a chair and pushed a bowl of stew into her hands. Rae fanned the steaming carrots while Ness continued her admonishments. “You shouldn’t stray so far. You’ll never know how worried we were.…”

“Ness, what have I done?” Rae interrupted at last. “I didn’t go far—hardly beyond where I take the sheep. I didn’t climb much past the meadow or far into the hills.”

“Oh, child,” Ness said, finally sitting. “Mop found a ewe this afternoon.”

“And?” Rae didn’t understand.

Ness shook her head. “Wolves.”

Rae grew cold. The spoon in her hand trembled; she set it, clink-ing, into the bowl.

“Wolves,” repeated Nessa. “Or a wolf. Almost certainly. The ewe was torn to bits, poor thing. And chased a fair deal, too—far from any place she’d graze. Not sure when we might have lost her—she was dead for a while already when Mop found her. We’ve been desperate not knowing where you were and wolves so close to the house. Mop’s sitting out tonight to keep the flock safe. He’s lighting a fire to—”

Rae, bursting from her chair, did not wait for Ness to finish. She raced into the dark. “Don’t! Don’t!” she cried.