The snow topped the hills above the long valley as the carpenter left the house. The loch stretched westwards for quite some miles, its battleship grey surface ruffled by the squally wind. The night had been rough, and the gale was only just about subsiding when he set forth. Daylight was short, and he had quite a few miles to cover before reaching his home, his hearth and his significant other half. The folks at Luachair had let him take the excess wood back, after repairs to the house were completed. The previous gale had nearly taken the roof off.
Slowly, the carpenter trudged up the path, with the dark face of Stulabhal rearing up ahead. Once by the loch, he would turn left and head uphill, under the mountain's northern escarpment. Only the wind, gradually subsiding, made any appreciable noise. He briefly stopped at the highest point, where the level summit of Rapaire stretched out towards the north. The stark grey surface of Langabhat stretched out below, with distant hills and coasts visible beyond.
As he descended into the long glen of Langadale, another noise began to intrude. Its source was difficult to ascertain on account of the wind, and the noise that his boots made, squelching in the mud. Tap. Tap. The carpenter smiled, thinking his mind was playing tricks. It almost sounded like someone hammering, but the glen was empty and devoid of any habitation. He crossed the river, with some difficulty, and began the ascent towards top of the ridge ahead. Tap. Tap.
The carpenter reached the top of the pass, and glanced back. Tap. Tap. The sound did not come from Langadale, and it was difficult to ascertain whence it came. Tap. Tap. Quickly, he walked down Glen Vigadale, and the sound of the tapping hammer became more prominent. Tap. Tap.
Finally, he reached his homestead above Loch Seaforth. The afternoon was drawing to a close, but no lights shone from the windows. No smoke issued from the chimney. No smell of cooking food was discernible. Tap. Tap. The sound receded into the distance, into the darkness that was covering the sea ahead. The carpenter entered his house, which was cold and lifeless. As lifeless as his other half, whom he found in their bedstead.
Tap. Tap. The next day, the carpenter found himself using up the excess wood from the job at Luachair. Tap. Tap. This time, the sound was real, and made by his hammer.Tap. Tap. As it constructed a coffin for his wife. Tap. Tap.