A bejeweled ukulele strapped over her shoulder, Harmony Starr invites me inside her condo—at least in the sense that it has walls. It still feels like outside, with potted ferns and exotic plants dominating the living room. Chittering rodents and songbirds scurry and flutter among them. Certainly a creative use for her trust fund.
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Eric pushed through the underbrush, cursing the strange echo effect in the valley. He could hear the faint strains of the ukulele, but locating the sound was nearly impossible. “I’m probably going in circles,” he groused.
As he stepped over a spindly creek, a large shadow blocked out the filtered sunlight.
My attention shot toward the screen when a tall, willowy woman wearing an oversized orange sweater stepped into view of the security cameras. She lowered her ukulele as a magnificent bird soared out of sight. I watched the curious woman unlatch and open a small door camouflaged amongst the eucalyptus. My nose crinkled.
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“And so the rumors of kelpies remain to this day. Now please, enjoy the concert, and remember, swimming in the loch is strictly forbidden.” The guide smiled as she finished her tour, and the group dispersed. Harmony meandered after the tourists, taking in the heather-covered hills. beside the loch.
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