Chapter 10

I hear her before I see her.

I’m making my way along the trickiest section of the path – a faint steep zigzag through the ferns and bracken – when the sound of a woman singing catches my attention.

The song is slow, sad, beautiful yet somehow broken – like the words are drowning in sorrow, too heavy for the singer to bear.

She can’t be far – just a few yards from the path – so I walk as quietly as I can in the direction the song is coming from.

As I draw nearer, I can hear the words more clearly.

Once again the threads pull tight

A promise made, an oath to keep

Rivers of song creep through the night

Flow like the bloodlines she must reap.