Her clothing had been packed in trunks and placed on the wagon the night before. Any personal items she needed she would carry in her satchel. The line of wooden animals on the mantel of the hearth in her small chamber stood waiting expectantly. Ciara could not decide whether to take them or not, so she spent several minutes staring them down and trying to make up her mind. They’d been part of her life since she had travelled to Lairig Dubh, each one carved by Tavis in an attempt to entertain her. The first, a horse, was still her favourite because her father—stepfather—had asked him to make it for her. The rest were Tavis’s idea and over the days spent on the road, her collection included the horse, the pig, the deer and the sheep. Used by her and shared with her siblings, they were worn smooth now, but no less valued by her. She reached to scoop them up when her mother entered her room. ‘Taking them with you on your journey?’ she asked as she walked over and adjusted the cloak on Ciara’s shoulders.
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