Standing in the fog was like standing on another planet. The damp gray engulfed us on all sides, blocking out the sun, giving everything a muted glow. White clouds, perfectly compact and cottony, rolled around our feet and floated past our knees like lost sheep.
As we walked, I lost all sense of direction. I could see we were following a faint path through the grass, but the landscape more than an arm’s length away was obscured. The fog also seemed to mute all the sounds of the world. The eerie silence kick-started my serial killer sensor. Why am I stupidly following a stranger into the mist in the middle of nowhere? If he turned on me, they’d probably never even find my body . . .
Just as my brain started to peak with panic, his beautiful accent wafted through the air.
“Nearly there,” he said, and a warm peace settled over me once again.
A gigantic, flat, sharp-edged column of rock twice as high as me appeared on the side of the path like an ancient signpost. It was shaped like a rounded headstone, with a bit notched out near the top left. The dark, wet stone was speckled with bright orange lichen that curled around an elaborate engraving of a cross.
“Right,” he said, “we’re about to cross over.”
I peered down the path and saw nothing different from where we were standing.
“This is your village?” I asked.
“No, this is just the entrance,” he answered. “You won’t see anything until we cross over, which you can do thanks to your necklace, and the fact that you’re with me.”
I was not convinced. “How does this work again?”
He sighed, as if exasperated to have to explain himself to such an idiot. “There are dozens of different dimensions in the universe,” he began. “Humans can only experience four: your three-dimensional idea of the world and time. You can enter another dimension with me, but your wee brain—ahem, I mean your human brain—wouldn’t be able to handle it.”
I clenched my teeth as my wee brain exploded with a million insulting comebacks.
“Your Abbey necklace has a touch of angel essence embedded in it that acts sort of like a translator,” he continued, “so you can perceive the experience. Make sense?”
Nope.
“Yep,” I said.
“I’ll just be needing your hand so I can transfer my energy to you, and we’re off,” he said. He extended his palm to me and waited for my permission.
I slipped my hand into his. Fireworks exploded under my skin. I was ready to pretend I could see his imaginary village just for the thrill of holding his hand, when the necklace suddenly got heavier. And hot.
“What is that?” I asked, grabbing at the pendant with my free hand.
“Nothing to worry about,” he assured me. “Just the necklace working. The sensations will calm down once your body acclimates.”
In a few steps, my neck cooled, and the tingling feeling subsided.
I smelled the village before I could see it: wood smoke and something delicious being cooked over an open flame. A few more steps, and the fog miraculously dissipated, revealing a low, stone wall and the straw-topped roofs of small buildings. Men’s voices and the sound of children laughing drifted over them.
We turned a corner and found a woman standing in the middle of the path, blocking our way. She had been waiting for us.
Gavin unceremoniously dropped my hand, and galloped up and gave her a big hug. With his arm still around her, he introduced us.
“Maren, meet Rielly.”
Rielly was in her late forties or early fifties; I couldn’t tell. Her face had the wrinkles of someone who lived and worked outdoors, but there wasn’t any gray in the brown hair twisted into an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck. She wore a long skirt made of the same plaid as Gavin’s kilt, with an oatmeal-colored blouse, and more plaid wrapped over her shoulder.
I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
She took my hand in both of hers, and held it up to her heart. “Och, she’s a bonnie lass, ain’t she? More beautiful ’an a sunset! You were right, Gav.” He blushed. He told other people about me? And apparently told them I was pretty? I could have fainted at the revelation.
“You’re only missing one thing,” Rielly continued. She lifted a thick ring of flowers and ivy gathered together like a fairy crown, and placed it on my head. “Now you’re a proper maid! On to the festival!” She started toward the village, and we fell in step beside her.
“There’s a festival?” I asked.
“Aye.” Gavin smiled. “It’s kind of a regular thing around here.”
As we walked through the village, it seemed as if we had walked back in time. Every building was crafted entirely of stone, with open rectangles for windows and thatched, grass roofs. Gavin said they were crofts, small Highland houses. He explained that unlike demons, angels preferred to live as simply as possible.
My mother would love this, I thought. She was such a history buff. Although maybe with her secret job, she’d already seen things like this . . .
The whole village exuded an undeniable peacefulness. I hadn’t been there five minutes, and already I felt a heavy contentment. Even though I didn’t see any halos or wings, the people we passed were literally glowing with happiness.
Everyone in the village appeared human and was dressed in rustic kilts like Gavin and Rielly. They looked like men, women, and children of all ages, even little babies gnawing on their fists, but there was something ethereal about them, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“Is everyone here an angel?” I whispered to Gavin.
“Almost everyone,” he whispered back.
An enormous tree trunk stripped of its branches and bark rose from the center square. It was decorated with long, twisted, blooming vines. Dozens of colored ribbons fluttered in the breeze from the top of the pole, and what looked like little girls danced with them, weaving in and out around each other. I was relieved to see that they had exquisite flower garlands in their hair too. I didn’t mind wearing it as long as I wasn’t the only one. A group of musicians began playing homemade instruments: skin-covered drums, wooden reed pipes, and handheld harps. The music was so cheerful, I found myself bouncing the tiniest bit as I walked.
Any doubts I had that Gavin was really an angel were disappearing quickly, especially when we met a positively cherubic little girl with a cereal bowl face, light blonde curls, and perfect pink lips. She was unpacking a picnic onto a large woolen cloth. Rielly and Gavin sat down, so I did the same. The blanket held a feast: loaves of bread, cheeses, berries, and even a little crock of butter.
“Angels eat regular food?” I was shocked.
“Of course,” the girl replied. She was busy buttering what looked like a scone. “We eat and drink and dance and belch just like you humans do, at least when we’re on earth . . .”
“Cassidy!” Rielly scolded.
“Sorry,” Cassidy mumbled through a mouthful of pastry, “but it’s true!”
“True or not, the Chief wouldn’t think very much of your manners,” Rielly said.
“The Chief?” I asked.
“Aye, the clan chieftain, Hector,” Rielly answered. “He’s the most senior angel, sort of like the father of this outpost.”
“Father, bother, aunties, panties . . .” Cassidy sang.
I glanced at Gavin and found he was staring at me. Intensely. I stared back. His gaze was so penetrating, I felt vulnerable, but somehow strengthened. I couldn’t hear Cassidy anymore, couldn’t hear the band. All I could hear was my own thumping heartbeat.
“Right, young lady!” Rielly stood up, and helped Cassidy to her feet. “That’s enough out of you. Let’s go find you a drink. That mouth could use a fresh rinsing.”
The interruption caused Gavin and me to break our gaze. When Rielly and Cassidy were gone, he spoke to the ground. “I apologize for staring at you. I just didn’t expect to . . .” He stopped, looked back up, and I felt the same piercing gaze again. “You’re not the first girl I’ve had to play Guardian to.” His voice slithered into my ears like a hypnotizing tongue. “I’ve done this a dozen times, and nothing like this has ever happened to me. I have to keep reminding myself you’re only a human.”
“I’m not sure I’m following you,” I said, my entire body warming up the more he talked, “except that last part sort of sounded like an insult.”
He shrugged and looked away. I was not going to let him start brooding. There were too many things I wanted to know about him, and when he was paying attention to me, it was like basking in a warm ray of sunshine. I didn’t want the feeling to go away. Ever.
“So, there are other angel villages like this one?” I asked.
“Aye,” he said, avoiding my gaze.
“Where?” I pressed.
“There are angel clans spread out around the world: Italy, Russia, Japan, New Zealand . . .” He trailed off, as if he were too bored to continue. I was determined to break him down.
“How long have you been in Scotland?” I asked.
“A long time, but I was just stationed to Aviemore a month ago,” he said. He ran his fingertips across blades of grass near his knee.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“Two hundred eighty-three.”
“Be serious,” I chided.
“I am. Dead serious,” he answered, glancing back at me with a look that said he was.
“But you don’t look that old. You look like you’re my age.”
“I’ve chosen to look this age because it helps with my job,” he answered.
“Your job? You mean, rescuing all those damsels in distress?” I said lightly, trying not to reveal how jealous I was at the thought of him spending time with other girls. Even if he was just protecting them.
“No,” he said, irritated. “I told you my job is to be a Warrior, not a babysitter.” He examined the sky, possibly searching for the returning party. It was obvious he wanted to be anywhere else but next to me. But why would he talk about me to Rielly? I was sick of his mixed messages. Why did he like me one minute and detest me the next?
“Right, right,” I sulked. “You hate being stuck with me. I get it. Go. Find a sword or something.”
A strange look—regret, maybe?—crossed his face. “No, I can’t leave you alone,” he said.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. We’re in a village full of angels, right? What could possibly happen?”
“It’s rude,” he protested.
“Since when do you care about being rude?”
“I do care,” he said, his face reddening. “I’m just not very good at sitting still. Please don’t take my restlessness as a sign I don’t want to be with you. That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?”
I bit back a smile, amazed that he’d pinpointed exactly how I was feeling.
“I’m sorry.” He lowered his voice to a tender level. “I’ve been terrible to you. Can you forgive me?” He flashed me a grin that about broke my heart in two.
“Maybe,” I said, tucking my legs up under me, hoping he didn’t notice I was moving just to distract myself from his perfect lips. “What are you going to do to make it up to me?” I said in what I hoped was a flirty way.
“How about a tour?”
“That could work,” I said. Before I could even uncross my legs, he was on his feet, reaching down to help me up. I let him, and thought I might really faint for the pleasure of touching his hand again. Miraculously, once I was standing, he didn’t let me go.
“Great!” he said, tugging gently on my hand as he entwined his fingers in mine. “This way.”
I looked around nervously to see if anyone was watching us. Was he allowed to hold my hand? Would we get in trouble? Maybe it was just an angel’s way of communicating with a friend, although I desperately hoped it meant more to him.
We walked around the village, but I could barely focus on anything. My entire being was concentrated on the four square inches of my skin touching his. I couldn’t believe how electric it felt, like our entire bodies were plugged into one another through our hands.
We strode past a small garden, through an overgrown thicket bursting with thistles, and into the woods. We walked for a bit through the forest, and then he suddenly stopped and turned toward me.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
“Um, no thanks,” I answered.
“Come on,” he begged. “Please.”
“Why?”
“Just trust me,” he said. “You’re going to love this.”
I looked around. There was nothing but trees as far as I could see. “All right, but don’t walk me into anything.”
“I promise,” he said. “I won’t walk you into anything.”
His emphasis concerned me. “Or through anything,” I added.
“No problem. Not into or through. Got it.”
I closed my eyes and let him lead me, although I shortened the distance between us to keep from stumbling. Instead of holding his hand, I wrapped my arms around his left one, hugging it close to my chest.
Without sight, my other senses roared to life. The scent of him—woodsy and masculine—filled my nose. The sound of his breath coming quicker now—or was that my imagination?—filled my ears. The movement of his muscles beneath my palms—hard and yet somehow still soft—thrilled me.
The spongey ground beneath my feet hardened in one step, and he instantly swooped out of my grasp and repositioned himself. He was now standing behind me, pressed close, his hands over my eyes. I put my own hands up to his in protest.
“What gives?” I asked.
“Can’t have you peeking,” he said. “Not when we’re so close.”
Even though I still couldn’t see a thing, I could sense a change in the atmosphere. There was more wind. It made me a little dizzy. I heard the sound of water. A waterfall, I decided. He wanted to show me a secret forest waterfall.
We continued walking for a few paces when, midstep, my right foot still in the air, he tightened his grip on me. “That’s enough,” he said. “You can open your eyes.”
In one swift movement, he let go of my face and moved his hands to my shoulders and squeezed them, almost too tightly. I wondered why he needed to hold me so tight. The wind was stronger now and lapped at my cheeks. I opened my eyes.
I was standing on the very edge of a cliff, staring straight down into the churning water far below. I was leaning forward at an impossible angle, with nothing but air under my body.
I screamed and almost squirmed out of Gavin’s grip. My right foot scrambled to settle on hard ground, sending a small cascade of rocks hundreds, if not thousands of feet straight down. Was this a murder-suicide mission? Did he mean to kill me?
“It’s a’right,” he said in his crazy-sexy accent. “I’ve got you.”
Still panicked, I looked down to make sure I was touching some part of the cliff when I saw that his boots, on either side of my feet, were halfway over the edge. But he was standing on it. Barely. He was somehow suspending us both with a supernatural strength.
“Relax, Maren,” Gavin said in a voice that made it very hard to do anything else. “Enjoy the view.”
I took a deep breath and forced myself to lift my eyes from the jagged, jet-black rocks flecked with florescent green that leered up from the swirling water. The sea spread out before me on all three sides. A million shades of blue shone through the water and the sky, making it hard to tell which was which. I felt like I was in the clouds and part of the earth.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said. “I just had to show you. Let you feel it the way I can.”
Seeing the world from this perspective was both dizzying and wonderful. There was nothing around us. Just open, empty space. Just me and him.
“It’s great,” I sputtered. “Super fun. But can we reel it back in?”
“Sure,” he answered. I felt him flex his shoulder muscles as he straightened up, tipping us away from the edge. He took a step backward, and I practically threw myself off him. My heart was beating so fast that I was shaking, but I realized with amazement that I liked the feeling. It was a good shaking. A thrilling shaking.
I crumpled to the ground, grateful for the warm rock beneath me. “That was not funny, dangling me over the edge like that,” I breathed, although I couldn’t hide my joy completely.
“Och, it kind of was,” he answered, sitting down next to me.
Secure now that I was safe on solid ground, I surveyed my surroundings. The forest behind us ended abruptly, but the cliff continued, a wide-open space floored with large, flat boulders. The smooth rock surface seemed to rise slightly and disappear into the sky.
I scanned the endless horizon. The blues in the sky were beginning to dissolve into dark purple. Small islands seemed to float in the clouds and bob in the ocean at the same time. I felt like the beautiful vista was secretly painted just for us. Sharing the spectacular view with Gavin made me feel special, like I was chosen just for him, and this was “our” place.
“What do you think? Pretty amazing, right?” Gavin asked.
I nodded, still trying to calm down. Being so close to him made it hard. Our bodies were now touching from shoulder to thigh. “It’s breathtaking,” I said. “But how are we so high? We were just in a valley and didn’t really go up a very big hill.”
“Scotland’s funny like that,” he replied. “So you like it?” He was eager for my approval. A good sign that he didn’t despise me.
I closed my eyes as the wind swirled past my face. A warm peace burst inside and then settled over me. “I love it. It’s like being on top of the world.”
He smiled. “I come here whenever I need to think.” He paused. “I don’t know why, but I wanted you to see it.”
“It feels like we’re the only two people on earth up here,” I marveled.
“Maybe we are.”
I turned and found he was admiring me, not the scenery. I stared back, trying to memorize the different shades and shapes of blue in his eyes. After a few minutes, he finally spoke. “Your eyes. They’re such a strange color.”
“You mean green?” I said, not daring to look away.
“No, ‘green’ is entirely too small a word to describe them.”
We sat still, looking at each other. I didn’t want to break the silence and hoped he would continue. He did.
“There’s a place not unlike this on the northeast coast, called Whaligoe. The sea cliffs drop straight down, but if you know where to look, there are steps carved in the rock—three hundred sixty-five of them—that you can take to the water’s edge. Most of the sea around Scotland is dark blue, but down there, at the very bottom of Whaligoe’s cove, the water is the most amazing emerald color. It’s hard to describe, and I’ve never seen it anywhere else. Until today. Your eyes are the color of that water.”
I was speechless. It was the best compliment I’d ever gotten. He moved his head toward me, and I held my breath. He was about to kiss me. I closed my eyes and waited, but he must have changed his mind, because I felt a small breeze as he pulled away. I opened my eyes and saw that he was lying on his back. I was horrified that I’d misread the signals so badly, but only for a moment, because he put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me down next to him.
“Look at that.” He pointed to the clouds above as he kept his arm wrapped around me. I rested my head against his shoulder and decided I might like this even better than making out. Well, maybe not, since I’d never actually made out with a guy, and I was absolutely bursting to kiss him. But it was divine being nestled against him. We watched the clouds roll overhead. They were so low, I thought we might reach out and touch them.
He stroked the hair at my temple, and I fell just a little bit deeper in love with him. I didn’t want to move—ever—but I did want to know more about him, this amazing creature under my cheek.
“Tell me about your life,” I said. “About your most exciting mission.”
“Can’t,” he said. “It’s top secret.”
“What about the biggest battle you’ve ever been in?”
“Nope. Classified.”
“Seriously? I won’t tell anyone.”
“You think you won’t, but if you were being tortured, you might think again,” he said as he continued casually playing with my hair.
“Tortured? Who’s going to torture me? A demon?”
“Can’t say. Too dangerous,” he replied, adding, “I told you it’s not a good idea to know me. For the terrible conversation alone.”
“There must be something you can say,” I protested. I ran my fingers over his chest, exploring every dip and bulge. I drew a little heart and wondered if he could tell.
“Mmmm,” he said, pretending to think about it. “I’m not sure. There are a lot of rules against it.”
“There are angel rules?” I asked, desperately hoping they had nothing to do with dating a human. “Tell me one.”
“I’ve already told you one: we’re not allowed to kill humans.”
“Not even bad ones? Not even murderers?” I asked.
“Nope, none.”
“What about demons? Can they not kill humans too?” I asked.
“No, they can. They have their own set of rules, I’m afraid.”
“Are you allowed to kill demons?”
“Of course,” he said. “That’s sort of the whole point.” I wondered how many he had killed. I had a feeling it was a lot.
“Can humans kill demons?”
“Not without supernatural help.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze.
“That doesn’t seem fair,” I mused. “They can kill us, but we can’t kill them.”
“I haven’t found much about evil that’s fair,” he answered.
“What happens when you kill a demon?” I pressed.
“I really shouldn’t be telling you any of this,” he reminded me.
“You’re helping protect me,” I offered. “Knowledge is power.” I cringed inside. I sounded like a cheesy public service advertisement.
“Mmmm,” he answered, closing his eyes. I propped up on my elbow to get a better look at him. I hadn’t been this close to him while he was still and not watching me back, so I was able to study his features. They were perfectly made, as if chiseled by a great sculptor, which I supposed was true. I wondered if he had been made for me. My soul whispered that he was.
His skin was smooth and radiant. He certainly didn’t look like he was more than eighteen or nineteen years old. I wondered if he really was two hundred eighty-three. What would it be like to live so long? How many wars had he seen? How many presidents and leaders and inventions? Did time go more slowly for him since it was endless?
“What’s it like being immortal?” I asked.
“What’s it like being mortal?” he responded. “I don’t have anything to compare it to. I only know what I know.”
“But to know you’re never going to die? That must be nice.”
“Immortals can die,” he said, without opening his eyes.
“What?” I was startled. “I thought ‘immortal’ meant you couldn’t die.”
“No, it means we can live forever. ‘Can’ being the operative word. Just like we can kill demons, we can be killed by them.”
“What happens when an angel dies?” I asked.
“Same as a human. We go back to heaven.”
“And demons?”
He opened one eye and looked at me sideways. “I think you know where they end up.”
I laid my head back down on his shoulder. I didn’t feel like talking about death or demons any longer. Way to kill the mood, I reprimanded myself. “What’s another angel rule?” I asked, trying to make my voice lighter.
“The one that applies most readily to you is that a human can only visit an angel village during the day. You have to be gone before nightfall. In fact,” he said, shifting his weight and gently removing my head from his shoulder. “We’d better get back.”
I sat up reluctantly. I wasn’t anywhere near ready to leave. I wanted to stay, to bask in the warmth of his body. I wanted so badly to kiss him. Everything had seemed to be headed in that direction, but now the interlude was over. I wondered if I had messed up my big opportunity with all my questions. Why hadn’t I kept my big, stupid mouth shut?
He helped me to my feet, and I was relieved to find he kept hold of my hand. At least he still liked me, or was being angel-friendly with me, or whatever.
He led me back into the forest.
“Why do I have to leave by nightfall?” I asked as we crunched along the forest floor. “That seems like a stupid rule.”
“I suppose because if it weren’t a rule, humans would want to live with angels every time they found themselves in a scrape.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I conceded. Although I’d certainly volunteer.
“Humans are only allowed to stay in angel villages if a demon legion has locked onto them,” he continued, “and there’s no other way to keep them safe.”
“Has it ever happened here, in this village?”
“Aye. Just once. A girl got mauled by a demon and her Guardian angel found her just after the attack. Since her injuries were supernatural, he brought her back to heal.”
“The demons didn’t chase them in?” I asked.
“This is sacred ground. Demons aren’t allowed here.”
“What happened to her?”
“Our healers were able to save her, but she couldn’t leave, because the demons were tracking her. Every time she tried, she was hunted down again. She lives here permanently now.”
“She’s still here?” I asked. I couldn’t believe it.
“Of course,” he answered. “The village adopted her. You’ve already met her.”
My mind snapped to attention. “Rielly?” I asked.
“Aye,” Rielly answered. “The one and only.” I looked up and saw she was standing in front of us, waiting for us again. Gavin spotted her too and immediately let go of my hand.
“You’re a human girl?” I marveled.
Rielly nodded. “I am—or at least, I was. I don’t suppose I’d be called ‘girl’ now by many.”
“Where are you from? How long have you been here?” I had so many questions.
“I’m from Inverness, and I’ve been here twenty-five years, I think. It’s hard to tell when those around you never age,” she said, motioning at Gavin.
“Are you the only human here?”
“Why don’t you come and help me with some of the daily chores?” Rielly asked. “That way you can ask me all the questions you want, and we won’t bore poor Gavin here to pieces. Gavin, the hunting party has come back. Go listen in on their report.”
Gavin looked at me. I had barely nodded for him to go before he was halfway through the yard. Wow, he wasted no time in getting away from me, I thought sourly. Just then, he turned back and gave me a crooked smile. Our eyes locked, and my heart jumped.
Rielly and I crossed to the western side of the village and approached a croft. It was much more open than the others I’d seen so far: only three sides were walled, the roof slanted away from the front, and inside, the space was filled with high tables, pottery of all shapes and sizes, and food.
“So, angels don’t just eat at festivals then?” I asked, looking at the crocks of ground wheat and root vegetables.
“Yes, they eat, they drink, they dance, and all the rest of it as wee Cassidy explained.” Rielly began organizing bowls and crudely carved spoons. “When they are on earth, angels are like humans in almost every way, except they have supernatural powers, and they can’t be killed by mortals.”
“Well, why don’t the angels just kill all the demons and be done with it?” I asked. “Rid the earth of them. Isn’t that what they’re supposed to do?”
“It’s not quite that simple,” Rielly replied, taking a wooden pitcher from a shelf, and pouring what looked like milk into a knee-high, narrow cylinder that sat nearby on the dirt floor. “There are a lot more demons than you might think. When Lucifer was cast out of heaven, he took a third of the angels with him.”
“A third?” I said. “How? How did he convince them?”
“Evil is contagious,” she answered simply. I had never really thought about it that way, but it did make sense.
She continued, “Since demons are fallen angels, they are physically weaker than angels, so demons avoid open conflict with good because they know they will lose. Even a young lad like Gavin would slice a demon in two soon as look at him. Demons would rather mess with humans.”
I felt a ripple of pride for Gavin, hearing him praised by someone else.
Rielly stopped talking, and looked at me strangely for a minute. Then she shook her head as if to deflect an annoying insect. “Here,” she said, directing me to sit on a small stool next to the bucket of milk. She covered it with a donut-shaped wooden disk and shoved a stick in the hole. She motioned for me to move the stick up and down, which I did.
“Is Gavin really two hundred eighty-three?” I asked. “How is that possible? I thought Gavin said angels didn’t age.”
“They don’t, not really,” Rielly replied. “They’re created, but as baby angels, sent to live with other angels to learn the ropes.” I was right! I thought, remembering Gavin mocking my belief about baby angels. Well, sort of . . .
“That’s why you see the younger angels around here. They’re all apprenticing, as it were. Once they reach a certain level of maturity, they get their assignment—Guardian, Warrior, Governor, Record Keeper, Messenger—and choose the human age appearance that best suits their job.”
“What about Archangel?” I asked, trying to prove I had a least some knowledge of heavenly hosts.
“Archangel isn’t an assignment,” Rielly replied, “it’s a promotion.”
I wondered if it was Gavin’s goal, to be an Archangel, and why he was so devastated at being demoted. Because of me.
After what seemed like hours of pounding the wooden stick, Rielly lifted the lid of the bucket and showed me the results: a light-yellowish cream.
“Butter?” I asked, crinkling my nose involuntarily at the not-so-fresh smell.
“Very good,” she answered.
She lifted the bucket with one hand, and deftly emptied the gooey butter into a larger wooden barrel. She poured wax over the top of the spread, and then used a rock to pound the tight-fitting lid in place. She wrapped the barrel in rope both horizontally and vertically, flipping the two-foot-high tub as if it weighed nothing, even though it had to be over fifty pounds. When she was finished looping and tying the rope, I saw she had woven two even handles, one on each side. She slipped a long, thick stick through the loops.
“Grab on,” she commanded.
I stepped forward and lifted my end of the stick, as she did the same. The barrel was crazy heavy.
“Where are we taking it?” I asked.
“To the bog,” she answered.