The morning we arrived at Culloden, the mist hadn't lifted off the moor yet. We were there when the doors opened, and hours and hours later, a kind staff member found us out on the battlefield to let us know the site was closing. We were the very last to leave (we are ALWAYS the last to leave). Our daughter kept going back to the Clan grave markers, looking off into the hills, listening hard. She did not want to go.

Neither did we. Culloden had a firm hold on our souls. (Still does!)