A welcome breeze springs up, bringing with it the smell of the heather. You close your eyes and 
breathe in deeply, forgetting for a moment the rest of the patrol with you. The sound of them 
fades away, replaced by the trilling of a bird and other, less pleasant noises.

You open them again to the sight of heather in bloom stretching across the highlands. Behind you 
stands a cottage; you can hear Morrigan inside, sometimes screaming, sometimes swearing. Only the 
knowledge that you can't be much help stops you from rushing to her side, that and the looks that 
the old woman who owns the cottage gave you when she shooed you away when it all started.

The remains of an axe, the haft splintered, are buried in a log beside you. The old woman had set 
you the task of chopping wood, but in your nervousness you put too much effort into the swings. 
Travesty sits on a rock nearby; somehow he managed to acquire pie, the price of leaving peacefully 
when the old woman shooed him out as well. Calamity had been allowed to stay as an extra pair of 
hands.

The screaming stops; for a moment your heart pounds in sudden fear. Looking back at the cottage 
you see the door open; the old woman smiles and beckons to you. You run to the cottage and duck 
inside. Calamity steps to one side to let you through, smiling through tired-looking eyes.

Morrigan is sitting propped up on cushions on a low cot, tired and bedraggled but smiling 
blissfully; although you would never have thought it possible, she looks more beautiful than ever. 
In her arms, wrapped in a blanket, a tiny face looks back at you; already the baby promises to be 
as lovely as her mother. As you kneel beside the cot to take both of them in your arms, the wind 
gusts through the open door, filling the cottage with the scent of heather. You blink; the cottage 
is gone, and you're back with the patrol.