We leave for the Isle of Skye hours before the sun is awake. Hell, I’m barely awake. I almost immediately curl up in the backseat, nestled among the boys’ coats, a loaf of warm sourdough clutched to my body. Thomas and Quentin rouse me from my slumber often, forcing me into the cold to see the majesty of the Highlands. Thomas has detailed itinerary for our long drive up north and the Highlands have many more surprises in store for us. No time for sleep. 

I practically ran to the snow when I got off the car at Glenshee. We're climbing up great big hills of hardened snow, falling thigh deep into the giant snow drifts when the surface breaks. I shriek in surprise. Ice cold wet in my socks. From the top, a valley of pure snow spread out below us like clouds. Racing back down the hill to the car, running, slipping, falling, laughing as Quentin catches up to me and kisses me, both of us breathless and freezing.

4:30 am. My phone rang and buzzed lightly by my head. Merde. It's early. But I hardly cared. I was already so excited. As I turned off the alarm, I saw Hillary in the darkness, already awake and getting dressed.