A dark and filthy night. Black as black. A howling wind. A small mound in the distance. A lonely tree bent double on top. Nothing is abroad.
No one walks on a night like this.
A small figure stands next to the tree. Gently lifting a large flat stone. Carefully tying a rope. Lowering the other end into a small black hole. Leering like a baleful eye in the frightening night.
Inteachán tests the knot.
Inteachán is twelve years old. She climbs down holes. Retrieving relics. Important things.
Tombs. Graves. Cairns.