" It's a booley village," Ian told her. " The islanders used to take their animals into the hills for the summ. They'd camp out in these stone huts: men, women, and children. Everyone stayed up all night, sang, told stories, watched the stars. It must have been great craic." " How do you know this stuff?" she asked, admiringly. " I' a bloody genius." When she threw him a look, he grinned. " I also read it in the guidebook. "