13th March, 1891 — Padmore Park

The remaining vestige of sense that Ailsa possessed was clamouring to the surface as she observed the sun beginning to diminish through the firs and evergreen trees that made up the forest. She was not especially far down the wooded path, nor was she even out of shouting distance of the lingering spectators - though she might have to magically increase her natural volume - but that didn't really count. Either way she was not going back until she was quite sure that Ewart was safe and if heading into the woods was where he had last been spotted then she would follow his trail diligently.

She did not feel the need to follow him as a nearby spectator had put it: "completely out of bloody control with that thing" though she did wonder whether being erratic might help her search. But what if she zigged where Ewart had zagged and ended up back at home instead?

"Ewart!" She called out - sans magical amplification - and without too much thought to what else might be dwelling even this far into the woods. "Darling, it's getting dark, we really ought to be heading home for tea."

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