The damp river wind smelled of salt mud and dry winter pine.

I stopped two feet from the workshop entrance and reached out to touch the cold iron links.

The padlocked chain was wrapped around the heavy timber handles of the barn door.

I left the barn behind and walked straight up the unheated stairs to my bedroom.

Knox followed three steps behind me, his claws clicking on the dry pine floorboards.

I pulled the heavy canvas sea bag down from the back of the closet shelf and set it beside the dark oak chest at the foot of my bed.