'Him!' Peter grunted. 'He'she's'
'Yes, quite a surprise. With all the land he owns he must be a millionaire but he's sacrificed everything for a few extra grand. Not content with making a fat profit out of sheep he finally couldn't leave the deer alone. I guess he won't be walking these fields for a long time to come. Now, I reckon, Mr Fogg, we can just squeeze you in one of the snowmobiles and give you a lift down to a more civilised place. I'll bet you've seen enough of Hodre to last you a lifetime!'
Peter turned from his cramped place in the low vehicle as its caterpillars began to grip the snowdrifts for one last look at a place that had been home for a short time, and was now being cremated in a blazing inferno. The roof had caved in, the nearside wall was bowing and any moment it would collapse outwards, showering hot stone and burning debris into the drifts. Snow was already melting and running in rivulets down the garden path.
He grinned wryly as he remembered his book. One chapter that wasn't finished, another that was hardly begun.
In a lot of ways he was going to have to start all over again.
With a thunderous roar the cottage disintegrated and huge tongues of flame shot skywards. Hodre was going out in one last terrifying flamboyant gesture. And way up the slope the twisted trees surrounding the old druid circle were momentarily illuminated, blackened skeletons leering down on a funeral pyre, seeming to gloat as though an age-old vengeance was fulfilled.
For them, perhaps, it was not all over.