The Rose At Twilight
“The street known as the Kirkgate formed a tunnel for the morning’s freezing north wind, and Alys felt as though she were being pushed by it up the hill. Drawing her thick wool shawl closer, she studied the houses, looking for the one she sought.
Towering above her on her right was the steeple of the gray stone church for which the street was named. Behind her, she could hear the chatter of Ian’s teeth over the crunch of his boots through the thin crust of snow. And across the way, the upper stories of a row of ancient, adjoining cottages leaned out over the lower, giving them a top-heavy appearance. The way they had been angled to fit against the rising street made them look as though they were sinking. Crossing over and stopping before the last one, the sharp angles and crooked end-wall chimney of which made it appear even more tipsy than the others, Alys hesitated, glancing back at Ian.
“Art certain we shall find her here?”
The lad shrugged, hugging himself.
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