Location:The Millford road — the old sheepfold; the road north
Date/Time:TC1858.03.29
Grease. The sun came over the field and onto the east face of the fold, and the smell came off the stones to meet her: old, sour, warm, the smell of a hundred winters of sheep leaning their fleeces on the same wall.
Brisk smelled it before she looked up. She'd come down off the long rise with her eyes on her boots, the way she'd gone up it, and the smell was the first thing in two days that wasn't snow or her own coat. She lifted her head.
The road went down into the dip and stopped. The drift lay across it from the low wall on the right to the fold on the left, smooth and blue in the fold's shadow, higher than her waist where it banked against the stones and rising toward the middle. Past it the road rose out of the dip, gray and rutted, and went on north. Between here and there was forty paces of snow nobody had walked on.
