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old wood, and after a few minutes they shoved their way out through the ivy again and cut back towards the Cottages by the side of a tiny stream, almost hidden between its overgrown banks and overhung by bushes and small trees.
    â€œIf you’re not busy tomorrow,” Josh said at last, “is there any chance we could go back to that cave and see what’s happened to the ice?”
    â€œGeorge and Rose are going to Dundee in the car to see some sort of exhibition. Can you cycle?”
    â€œYeah, of course.”
    â€œYou could borrow my dad’s bike and helmet.” They were nearly back at the Cottages now. “Come round at ten. Shall I bring a picnic?”
    â€œYeah, that’d be good – only if it’s not raining, mind you.”
    â€œWimp!”
    ***
    A cold rain set in again that evening, dying away as darkness fell and the frost returned. In The Smithy Chutney Mary slept curled on the pillow among Callie’s hair, and Josh burrowed down under the duvet up the road at East Neuk Cottages.
    In Constantine’s Cave the man lay huddled at the back of the cave, his eyes closed, picturing a little stream clotted with weeds, and a palace of briars, and a woman whose face he saw now only in his dreams. At the edge of the shore near Pitmillie the water turned thick and slow, moving less and less.
    The sea froze.
    Something
dragged itself, cracking, from the sea ice, and lumbered up onto the beach, shedding weed and sand and shells as it moved inland.
    ***
    Luath’s barking woke everyone in the house. George and Callie stumbled from their bedrooms, Callie with the kitten clamped to her shoulder in a state of terror. Rose pushed past them, wide awake, and went at once to where the dog stood trembling, hackles up, behind the front door. Without hesitation she opened it.
    â€œRose – don’t! It could be a burglar,” called Callie. George said nothing. A gust of freezing air that smelled of salt and weed blew in, rattling the loose window in the kitchen. Luath stopped barking and edged into the dark garden, growling.
    â€œWhat do you see, dog?” muttered Rose under her breath. She could sense nothing. “Is it the wind? Is that what you see? Or is there more?”
    Even in darkness every shape looked familiar. Luath trotted around it a few times, his agitation diminishing, then shook himself, came back in and lay down on his bed.
    â€œI reckon the dog had a nightmare,” said Rose to no one in particular.
    â€œDo dogs have nightmares?” asked George.
    â€œThis one does.” She shut and locked the door, muttering quietly to herself. “Well, we may as well get back to bed. Goodnight.”
    But it was a long time before any of them slept.
    ***
    As Josh walked round to Callie’s next morning, he could see his breath hanging in the air like smoke. He wore jeans and a long sleeved tee shirt, a hoodie and his fleece jacket. It he’d had gloves he’d have worn them too. He wriggled his toes in his trainers to keep them warm.
    As he pushed open the gate he saw two muddy mountain bikes propped in the garage, good ones by the look of it. Unlike the bikes he and his mates rode in town, these both looked as if they might have been up a few proper hills.
    Something crunched under his feet as he went up the path to the front door. He looked down to find a scatter of weed and shells and sand round his feet.
    He rang the bell and heard Luath barking somewhere inside. He was getting a bit more used to him now, but he didn’t think he was ever going to turn into a dog person.
    Callie came to the door yawning.
    â€œAm I too early?”
    â€œNo.” She swallowed another yawn. “I just slept badly. Luath was having nightmares or something. He woke us all up barking at something in the garden.”
    â€œWhat was it?”
    â€œNothing, as far as we could see.” She focused on the sea-wrack round his feet and frowned. “Was