The great mass of the forest—and certainly the part the MacAlasdairs guarded—was still a good walk away, but the Finlays lived at the very boundary of civilization, such as it was in Loch Arach, and this was the edge of their land. The earth soaked up blood well, but the grass still showed it, even after the farmer and his family had taken the ewe away. William stared at those few traces, tried to make something of them, and hoped they’d be enough. He had heard of the killing late and thirdhand at best. One of Mrs. Finlay’s neighbors, whose dog had been briefly under suspicion, had dropped in for her usual cup of tea and chat with Mrs. Simon. She hadn’t given much detail, but she had mentioned that the beast’s eyes had been gone. Scavengers could have been responsible, as Lady MacAlasdair had said about the first incident. But there had been a first incident. Once was chance, but twice might be more than coincidence.
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