I could hear the girl's cries still echo in my ears when I awoke before the sun. Sleep was eager to elude me, instead the familiar cries of the book Winter haunting me the way it used to in the past. Her back was turned from me, her white hair in frayed knots tumbling to the ground as she lay crumpled and defeated.
I had spent much of the last knight with Marie and Emma, packing nondescript cloth bags that were easy to carry on our person and full of warm wool dresses, easily stored provisions, and gold coins stealthily sewn into the clothes so they wouldn't jingle and make a racket. If I were a few years older, I'm certain I would have dark circles that resembled a raccoon. A loud yawn escapes my mouth and I hastily crawl from the bed.
Emma, who was napping on the small sofa near the fireplace perks up instantly from the noise. I nod in greeting, too nervous to even speak loudly.
