Chapter 74

"Camilla, bring the rope, and the satchel of chalks and oils!"

"Yes, Father," said Camilla. The maiden, raven-dark hair haloing creamy skin, leapt from the wagon's seat. She ran to the back, threw back its protective oilskin, and rummaged through bags and baskets. A gust blew a wisp that had escaped her braid into her face. She shook it from her gray eyes even while she shivered.

Meanwhile, her father Theophobus stiffly climbed down and tethered their horse to a stunted tree. He looked backward, ignoring his long whiskers blowing under the wind's grasp, over the overgrown track they had followed across the moor. Nothing moved but the wind thrashing the scrub and the first clouds darkening the sky.

Then he turned forward and looked at the knoll, at whose foot their wagon stayed, and above a storm newly brewing. From around the wagon came Camilla, who when she reached Theophobus, stopped. Wide-eyes she stared at the knoll and the lum