Lips White As Snow

8-The Slightly Drunken Owl.

Edmund and Hawes stopped in a layby on the very outskirts of Lesser Farthing at about half past seven. The sun was beginning to go down-it was a pretty sunset, but the night was settling in cold, and Edmund shivered as he got out of the car.

"Grab your things" Hawes ordered. "We're going cross country from here on in."

"Fantastic" Edmund sighed sarcastically, as he pulled his things out of the car. "Also. Do I have permission to be incredibly pissed off with you if we have just happened to pick the night in which nothing happens?"

"Depends" Hawes replied blandly, locking the car and crossing to the field gate on their left, opening it. "If you stop complaining right this second, and in doing so make the rest of my night arguably tolerable, I might allow you the liberty of having your little hissy fit."

"I do hate you at times, you know" Edmund pointed out, following her. "Like, actual hatred. Close to loathing."

"When did I ever say I didn't regard you with a feeling close to loathing?"

"Why do you even do this to me?"

"Because I want you to shut up. Preferably as soon as possible. Come along."

Edmund repressed his anger and shut his mouth, trudging after Hawes as she made her way around the edge of the first field.

They must have walked about half a mile in complete silence, broken by Edmund's phone ringing. He cringed, and Hawes, ahead, stopped, her shoulders sagging in frustration.

"Turn it off" she ordered. Edmund had seen that it was Foxy calling, and gladly complied. He wasn't really in the mood to talk to his flame-haired friend, and in spite of that, Hawes might have genuinely murdered him if he'd had the audacity to pick up the phone.

"Have you got anything else on you that'll make a loud obnoxious noise?" the D.I. demanded.

"My mouth?" Edmund queried amusedly, before shaking his head.

"No, ma'am. Just my phone."

"Thank goodness for that. We're nearly there, anyhow. Shhhh."

The night was beginning to close in around them, blackening the hedgerows and lengthening their shadows. The sun was nearly set-it had already disappeared over Farthing Hill, which Edmund realised he could now see, black against the sunset, on their left. The failing light itself made the sky pink, not vibrant, like the painted colour, but a misty pink that faded into the darkening blue of the sky. There were no clouds to be seen, and Edmund was grateful. No clouds meant no rain, and no rain meant a decidedly more comfortable stakeout.

"It shouldn't rain" Hawes commented, seemingly on the same wavelength. "Thank god for that."

Keeping to his new 'silent' pledge, Edmund smiled dryly to himself and kept walking. They walked around a final field, and cleared a hedge with some difficulty before finding themselves in  the wood around Farthing House. The hill sloped up steeply through the trees, through little patches of greenery and moss, and Hawes grabbed a sturdy stick from the undergrowth before making her assault on the hill, as evening quickly faded into proper twilight.

Edmund followed suit. It was difficult to get up the slope-the steep angle and mass of undergrowth ensured that with every step, you had about a 50% chance of falling on your face and rolling down to the bottom again in a pool of embarassment and misery.  Hawes, with her stick, tackled it admirably, and Edmund, without a stick, didn't. He ended up crawling on all fours up to the summit, which was near the back of the big house, and he could have sworn Hawes was laughing at him as she stood waiting by a tree. However, upon his arrival, sweating, muddy, and out of breath, his ever-stern boss remained stern as ever, silently beckoning him over to follow her once more.

They made their way around the side of the house until they were standing about twenty metres from the big, stone central courtyard, with the remains of the crumbled balcony in it.

Hawes picked a spot and sat down.

"Here?" Edmund queried, whispering so as not to break the silence. His boss nodded, before rolling her eyes.

"Sit. And shh. Watch where the path comes up into the courtyard. Don't fall asleep" came the only orders Edmund was to receive that night. He rolled his eyes, and sat down, knees up to his chest, shuffling a little to try and make himself a bit more comfy. Hawes was sitting still as stone next to him, and Edmund got the impression she had done things like this before.

He didn't dare question when.

After a few minutes, however, Hawes moved, turning her head towards her D.S. slowly and quietly.

"Can you make any animal noises?" she asked, under her breath. Edmund stifled a snort.

"Sorry, what?"

"There's something I need to go and do" Hawes explained, sounding irritable. "I realised, you see, that there's not much we can really do here other than sit and watch. We need to find some way of tracking anyone who comes through the tunnels."

"Right?" Edmund queried.

"To do that, I need to go down there and set a trap. You don't need to know the details. But you do need to have some sort of signal on standby to warn me if you see anyone coming."

Edmund gave her that point. Despite sounding initially crazy, Hawes was making a lot of sense.

"I can do this" he muttered, cupping his hands together and putting his thumbs side by side, before resting his  lips on his thumb joints and blowing. A cool, slightly wavering hoot wobbled over the air, sounding almost exactly like a rather drunken owl.

"Damn. Not quite in the right place" Edmund muttered, shuffling his hands around the tiniest bit, and trying again. This time the hoot was loud and clear, spot on.

"Okay. Two hoots for 'someone's coming' three hoots for 'Run'."

"You really need a 'Run' signal?" Edmund muttered, shifting awkwardly as there was something digging in his leg.

"Always need a 'Run' signal" Hawes replied stoically. "Though don't use it unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Fairs" Edmund shrugged.

His boss gave a slight tilt of the head, which in Edmund's eyes, was a sign of approval. She then turned, and made her way silently, like a cat, down the hill. Without moving his hands from their current positions, Edmund watched her go. The trouble with hooting noises was if your hand slipped, the hoot also slipped away.

He watched like a hawk as she reached the garden and sneaked like a shadow up to the house. Edmund has no idea how a woman of her stature and weight could move so lightly on her feet, but it was incontestably so, he decided, as Hawes disappeared from his immediate view.

He sat for ten minutes, or maybe it was fifteen, he didn't know. Not a sound or a movement was heard.

Edmund began to wonder what on earth was taking Hawes so long.

It didn't occur to him that she might be in more trouble than he was.