The Light in Every Window

Sorrel has spent her life on the road, taking whatever work the season offers and walking out of strangers' doors on a morning of her own choosing. She has never had a door of her own. She has never wanted one.

Then the frost comes three weeks early, and the talk on the road is that this winter will come everywhere at once. Caught on the open moor as the storm comes down, Sorrel steers on the only light she can see, a small gold point low beside the road, and comes in at the crossroads house as the roads shut behind her.

Along the same road, at the col, the fen, the wood, the hill and the sea, five more keepers are meeting winters of their own.

Forty-odd strangers, one long table, one small light. And nowhere left to walk.