The steady patter of rain on the roof echoed throughout the barn, and the wind blew in icy gusts against the solid oak walls, causing the old timbers to moan and whistle as fingers of air reached through the cracks.
Malon shivered, and blew out the match that she had just used to light the candles.
The rain was comforting. It let her escape her duties, if just for a moment. It hid her from the demands of the ranch... and from Ingo.
No one would save her, no one would take her away.
But the rain would always come.