An icy film prevented her eyelids from opening and only with a concerted effort did they part to a squint. The sun was up and its light reflected off the surrounding thick, white blanket with blinding intensity. The windscreen was shattered and snow from the rockface she’d careered into had cascaded down on to the smashed bonnet of her vehicle. The build-up of ice had piled in through the void in the shattered glass and was tumbling into her lap. Fortunately, the rockface had held firm on impact — she could have had worse than ice piled in her lap. ‘Oh Christ … I’m alive,’ Riane mumbled, as flashes of the accident replayed themselves with disturbing clarity. It had been her fault. She shouldn’t have had those drinks with lunch, or at the least she could have considered staying the night at the little hotel, instead of pushing on into the highlands as evening fell, and in such dreadful weather. Listening to the locals tell ghost stories, time had got away with her. Intent on sticking to her holiday schedule, Riane wanted to make it to the coast this night and that meant braving the winding highland road.
