"At a special session of Parliament, the Prime Minister declared a national State of Emergency amid the continuing environmental chaos. With the unnatural storm continuing to cover the entire British Isles, and growing in intensity, many fear that water supplies, sewerage and the ability to make even the most vital journeys will soon be on the verge of collapse.

With other nations also suffering natural disasters unlike anything ever seen, the continued threat of war also sees no signs of diminishing, with nations accusing others of precipitating the disastrous weather conditions in some kind of environmental warfare previously unknown."

-+-

7

Runa didn't call the children down straight away. She couldn't afford to confront them feeling as angry as she did. It would only serve to make them both become far too upset to admonish effectively, or, worse, dig in their heels and refuse to admit their wrongdoing. She had to take a step back, regain some composure and return to rationality.

It didn't help by still having after images of that vivid dream running around her head. She found it difficult to concentrate knowing that she had imagined such disturbing visions. Visions that brought with them a feeling of dread that she could not seem to shake. A dread compounded by the wailing and battering of the storm outside that had begun to swell once more, returning to the shores of the island with a vengeance.

In the kitchen, she set about making breakfast. A proper breakfast that, looking out at the heathland that surrounded their new home, bracken and heather tossed by the strength of the winds, she couldn't feel certain when they would be able to restock their food. Not the perishables, at least. The cottage had several freezers, in the attached, converted cow-shed, and a number of foodstuffs that would keep for some time, but things like eggs and milk would soon run out.

She would have to rely on Mr McAreavey for those, if the storm ever died down enough for her to make the short journey to his farm. Otherwise, she would have to start rationing the things she couldn't replenish as easy, doubting she would see a boat from the mainland any time soon. Not in this weather.

"That smells amazing!" Stigr appeared, hair sticking out in several directions, unconcerned about his night-time foray and not looking the least bit tired. "Do you think the wind'll die down enough for me to have a kick-about, mummy?"

"I don't know." She scooped a fried egg from the pan, onto the plate beside the bacon and baked beans as she glanced out of the window again. "I shouldn't think so, by the looks of it."

Stigr had flopped onto the chair at the dining table, taking a long drink of the orange juice Runa had already set out. He scratched his head and yawned before rubbing his eyes. He had no idea how much Runa wanted to shout at him, at him and at Hertha, but she held it inside. Not least because she still awaited her daughter, who should have known better.

When Hertha did appear, she had already washed, got dressed and had brushed her hair, ready to attack the day as she always did. She didn't show any signs of guilt about leaving the cottage in the night, either. With a look of disgust at Stigr, sat in pyjamas that he had put on inside out, she eased herself onto her seat and picked up her orange juice, taking a sip before placing the glass down.

With both children now awake and downstairs, Runa decided to let them finish their breakfasts before saying anything. She placed a full plate in front of both children and turned back to make herself some breakfast. If they shared nothing else, Hertha and Stigr could both eat as much as Runa could put in front of them.

Of course, Stigr wolfed his down, sometimes hardly bothering to chew, while Hertha took a more dainty, reserved course in eating, they both ate the same amounts as each other. They got that from their father. Runa's fingers tightened upon the spatula as she shifted bacon onto her own plate. Her husband wouldn't have waited to berate the children. He believed in never wasting time and that people should always acknowledge their mistakes.

"Thanks, mum!" Pushing his plate away, thick dollops of brown sauce still coating the surface that, for once, Stigr hadn't picked up with a finger to transfer every last drop to his awaiting stomach. He jumped down from the chair. "Can I play a game before we start classes?"

"Sit back down until your sister finishes her breakfast." Runa could see the questioning look upon Stigr's face. "Then you can have an hour, no more, on your game. Okay?"

Hertha scowled as Stigr clambered back onto the chair, tugging the bottle of brown sauce towards him and squeezing it, then turning it around between his fingers. Runa couldn't keep his attention for much longer and she wished Hertha would hurry up and finish her own food. Even as she, herself, ate, she kept an eye on both her children.

It bothered Runa. Bothered her a lot. Not only that they had gone out during the night without her permission. Not only because they both sat there as though they had done nothing wrong, but also because she knew it had something to do with this fictitious 'Big Dog' and, if it wasn't a dog after all, but a man that they called 'Big Dog', that they had disappeared into the night to see an absolute stranger.

She felt certain she had taught them better, that both she and her husband, their father, had instilled the right amounts of caution into them. Just because they were now on an island with an old man the only other resident, didn't mean they could let down their guards. Trust, she had always told them, was something earned, not given to anyone with a quick smile and a few kind words.

Trust. She had also taught them that trust earned is as easy lost. Through lies, or doing things she had either told them not to do, or should know not to do without being told. She hadn't told them not to go out last night, but she shouldn't have to. That kind of thing, at any time, was a foolish and dangerous thing to do, let alone with a storm and earthquakes hitting the island.

Hertha finally finished her breakfast, laying her knife and fork down on the plate, and picked up her orange juice, taking little sips as she waited for Runa to speak. Runa finished her breakfast soon after and tried to collect her thoughts.

"Mummy! Can I leave the table, now?" He hooked a thumb at his sister. "Slowcoach has finished."

"I want to know why you both left the cottage last night." Runa saw the colour drain from Stigr's face, his mouth opening. He glanced towards Hertha, whose expression hadn't changed. "Do you have so little respect for me that you would ever think of doing such a thing?"

"We didn't!" Stigr began to fidget, shifting in his seat, eyes flicking between his mother and his sister. "I've been in bed all night."

"Don't lie to me!" Runa tried her best to keep her tone down, but the fact Stigr had outright lied to her caused her anger to flare once more. She took a deep breath, spreading her fingers on the table surface. "I saw your shoes, with fresh mud! I didn't think I'd brought up liars. You disappoint me."

Stigr bowed his head, slumping his shoulders. He looked so miserable that Runa had to stop herself from rushing around the table and apologising for accusing them, but she couldn't let his sorrow fool her. He had to understand, they both did, that they had done something very wrong. Lying only compounded that.

To his side, Hertha had clamped her mouth tight. Runa didn't want to think so, but the fact her eldest child had taken advantage of Runa's easy-going nature had hurt her the most. She expected better of her daughter, who usually showed far more maturity than Runa could ever have imagined of her. Hertha looked as though if she said nothing, Runa would let it pass.

"Sorry." After a long time, Hertha stirred, shrugging her shoulders, as though apologising for taking too much time in the bathroom, or using all the hot water.

"Sorry? That's not an apology, not a proper one, and certainly not an explanation." Half-turning, Runa pointed out of the window towards the storm that had continued to howl outside. "What if you had got caught in that, again, but with no-one awake to find you this time? You could have died and I wouldn't have known what happened to you!"

She threw up her hands, rising to her feet and turning away. She couldn't tell if the tears pricking at her eyes were through anger or at the thought of losing her children. In the space of a few days, she had almost lost her children twice, not to mention everything else happening in the world, the continuing storm and her nightmares. She began to wonder if coming to this island wasn't the best idea after all.

"We had to go see Big Dog. He's still injured, see, and we both heard him howling." She felt Stigr's hand on her arm. He thought that he comforted her, but she didn't feel comforted. "But when we got there, he told us to come home. He said you would be angry, so we came straight back."

"Stigr! Big mouth!" Hertha, snapped at her brother and that made Runa turn to look at her daughter but, once again, she clamped her mouth tight. She had said too much.

"Right! I want to see this 'Big Dog', that can talk and tell you what to do." Runa turned again, pulling out a kitchen drawer and selecting the largest knife she could find. "I'm tired of hearing about it. If it's real, I want to see it and if it's dangerous, I'm going to kill it. And woe-betide both of you if it's actually a man you've been sneaking off to see."

"You can't." Said in such a matter-of-fact fashion, Hertha's words caused Runa to pause. Hertha's gaze seemed to bore into her mother. "He says your not ready yet, daughter of the North."

At those words, the knife slipped from Runa's fingers, clattering to the stone-flagged kitchen floor. She had heard those words before, during her dream. Her nightmare. That Hertha knew those words caused every hair on Runa's body to stand on end.