The pale marking seemed to gleam in the dim light, a white crescent directly over his heart. The mark was more than he wanted, less than he needed to keep his love close to mind. Brodick was fascinated by the mark when they were together. He considered it a badge of ownership, a seal of his place in Ian's life. Johnnie grunted and dropped to the hard ground, leaning against the same twisted tree. Darkness had fallen, and a thin sliver of moon provided the only illumination as they stared at MacFarland's farm, where a dim yellow glow lit one lone cheerless window. The thin stretch of trees where they lurked didn't provide much shelter, but the MacFarlands didn't seem to be providing much security for this farm on the edge of their holding either. The night was cool, but Ian and Johnnie hadn't considered risking a fire. Their thick wool tartans blocked the cold of the night from seeping into their flesh. Unfamiliar sounds abounded in the MacFarland lands. Strange animal noises, odd muted shrieks, and moments of piercing stillness alternated with the bleating of sheep in the fields.
