I had long been an early riser, and now, in the quiet time before the household began to stir, I allowed myself to read Anluan’s record of my summer at Whistling Tor, the summer that had changed my life and his. One page a day; I would not let myself read faster. I savored each surprising entry, feeling with him each moment of doubt, each little spark of hope.The longer it took me to reach the end, the better.While there were still pages unseen, I could pretend the link between us remained unbroken. I was not sure I wanted to read the last page, which must surely tell of his decision to shut me out of his future, the choice that made less and less sense the more I read. Before the girls were astir, I would close the covers softly and slip the little book back into the pouch at my belt. I carried it everywhere. I thought of him constantly. There is a change in some inward part of me, he had written. I cannot tell if I welcome it or fear it. Muirne calls me foolish; she says nothing can change at Whistling Tor, not even its poor excuse for a chieftain.
