She woke with a gasp at a quarter past midnight, a drowning man sinking in the shadows of the room. Her heart raced, and then the sound of the front door clicking roused her fully awake. It took her a moment to notice it was the door she had heard, and another to realise Priya must be going somewhere. She took a moment to check there really was no ghost in the shadows of the room, and then leaned towards the window, her forehead squeaking on the cold glass.
The moon was low on the purple sea, and it sent scattered shadows through the streets. A dark-coloured cat sat on a fence beside the house before dancing along to the slate wall that lined the road. It pawed at the moss that hung from it, and then ducked behind a hedge.
She flattened her face against the glass and tried to peer to the foot of the house. Her breath steamed the window and obstructed her vision. She withdrew her face, and watched as the mark shrank, Priya appearing as it did so. She held her breath, and looked back out into the steep garden. She saw Priya, almost a shadow within shadow, wrapped in a duvet. She stepped slowly down the garden steps, crossed into the next garden, and into her own house.
Selina remained at the window and waited for her to reappear, wondering what had been so urgent to collect from her house in the middle of the night. After uncounted minutes had slowly passed, Priya emerged without the duvet, though instead of returning the way she had come, she hopped from a wall on to the dark high street and began walking towards the Smuggler’s Rest.