Emily Goes to Exeter (2010)
“William Shenstone Emily gasped and wheeled about, turning her back to the driving wind and snow and raising the hood of her cloak over her head. A craven voice inside her was telling her to go back, but a stronger voice urged her on. There must be some other hostelry quite near.
She turned around and put her head down and struggled forward into the raging darkness. Emily was typically English in that the occasional erratic savagery of the climate took her by surprise. This could not be England, she thought, this dismal arctic waste, this lower ring of purgatory. Soon the wind would drop and the stars would twinkle.
A snow-drift loomed up in front of her on the road and she waded right into it. She battled her way back out and shielded her eyes. Now any form of habitation would do. But there was nothing but the high eldritch screech of the wind and the blowing, stinging, blinding snow. No yellow candlelight flickered to mark even the lowest cottage.
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