As I leave Angus’s farm, I realize I’ve spent my entire day hearing about a man I’ve never even met.
A man I’m beginning to feel a certain amount of... sympathy for.
The sky hangslow and gray as I head back toward Glenfield, completely exhausted by the day. Rain starts falling, light at first, then heavier by the minute.
The country road is narrow and winding, bordered by hills on one side and a shallow ditch on the other. I drive carefully.
Then, around a bend, he appears.
“Ragnar!”
His massive black-wool silhouette stands planted squarely in the middle of the road.
The animal looks like he’s been waiting for me.
I slam on the brakes.
The car skids on the wet asphalt. I feel the wheels lose traction. Everything happens both too slowly and way too fast at the same time. The steering wheel jerks beneath my hands. The car slides to the right.
Toward the ditch.
No. No, no, no, NO?—
A dull crash follows.
The car comes to a stop tilted at an uncomfortable angle. The engine dies.
Then silence.
Nothing but the sound of rain hammering against the body of the car. The windshield wipers are frozen mid-motion across the glass.
I stay seated there, hands clenched around the wheel, heart pounding violently. Quick assessment: nothing broken, no pain, just adrenaline surging through my veins.
Slowly, I turn my head toward the road.
Ragnar is still there.
Completely motionless.
I swear the situation is entertaining him.
“Seriously?” I yell through the windshield.
He doesn’t move.
I unleash a string of curses my grandmother would strongly disapprove of, unbuckle my seat belt, and climb out of the car. The rain soaks me instantly. My boots sink into the muddy ditch.
The car is stuck.
Not catastrophically—the front wheels are in the ditch while the back end remains on the road—but buried deeply enough that I won’t be able to free it alone.
I turn toward Ragnar.
“This is your fault!” I accuse, pointing a finger at him.
He stares at me.
Motionless.
