Guardians of the Haunted Moor
“Gideon made his way with difficulty up the slope, balancing two cardboard cups of cider. He subsided gratefully into a deckchair beside Sarah Kemp, who was watching her daughter and the other kids tear around the lawn with Isolde, a sheepdog who nominally lived with Gideon and Lee but spent her time guarding the kitchens and offspring of half the other villagers of Dark. Gideon handed Sarah one of the cups. “There you go, your ladyship. Everything all right?”
“Heavenly.” She waved in the direct...ion of the romping children.
“Would you look at that? That dog of yours is herding the brats away from the cliff edge.”
“Whoever would’ve thought she’d have the brains, eh?” Gideon stretched and hid a yawn behind his hand. Even the smell of the cider was making the garden flutter and dance. “You should see her at home. Bites me on the bum if I’m late taking Tamsie for her bath.”
Sarah chuckled. “Nanny dog.” She leaned forward and pitched a Bodmin mother’s moor-crossing yell at her two younger offspring.MoreLess
“Heavenly.” She waved in the direct...ion of the romping children.
“Would you look at that? That dog of yours is herding the brats away from the cliff edge.”
“Whoever would’ve thought she’d have the brains, eh?” Gideon stretched and hid a yawn behind his hand. Even the smell of the cider was making the garden flutter and dance. “You should see her at home. Bites me on the bum if I’m late taking Tamsie for her bath.”
Sarah chuckled. “Nanny dog.” She leaned forward and pitched a Bodmin mother’s moor-crossing yell at her two younger offspring.MoreLess
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