Natty gently ran his fingers along the top of her gravestone, his fingertips picking up frost and leaving behind a narrow trail. The piercing coldness felt good, like a memory.

He straightened up, and took a walk through the cemetery. He liked to do that when he visited, taking a proper walk in this place of sombre peace. It was cold — he reckoned a last bite of frost before Spring — and the sky was grey but bright. Beneath his feet crunched green grass, and around the gravestones gathered new clumps of snowdrops.

The moment would be entirely one of serenity... if it weren't for a sudden prickling feeling of unease that unexpectedly descended.