The Coffin Trail

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Barrie could see the woman stretched out on top of the Sacrifice Stone. Moonlight played upon her pale skin and long fair hair.

She is waiting for me.

He broke into a run. The trail was steep. Usually he counted every pace up to the top of the fell. Safety in numbers. But tonight he wasn’t counting, tonight he could do anything. His shirt was damp and the cotton stuck to his chest. In the night sky, an owl’s wings flapped. Breathing hard, he halted. The moon dipped behind a cloud. In the distance he could hear the waters of Brack Force slapping the rocks. Straining his eyes in the gloom, he made out the slender motionless form of the woman. She was so patient.

‘I kept my word,’ he said.

His throat was parched and his voice sounded scratchy. He’d never had much to do with pretty women, but he knew that they liked to be wooed. Petted. They treated it as a game. Paying compliments didn’t come naturally to him. He’d never bought anyone flowers in his life: what was the point? All the same, he’d been rehearsing words of admiration over and over in his mind. If you wanted to win, you had to play by the rules, even if they didn’t make sense.

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