The Dun of Ruthven rose from the low ground of the Spey valley like a stone island among a heather moor, with the grey Monadhliath Mountains in the background.
"We can eat there," Bradan said, "and then it is up onto the Dava Moor, the boundary with Fidach."
The dun dominated a small hillock, with drystone walls and a complex entry system designed to baffle the attacker. At one time it had been formidable but, after two generations of peace in Alba, there had been no need for such a defensive structure, and the owners had abandoned it to wildlife and weather.
"It"s empty," Bradan said. "Come on, in we go."
With the stone walls sheltering them from a wind that sliced ice-cold from the hills, Bradan gathered fallen sticks from the stunted trees around the dun and soon had a bright fire b
