When I awoke, I'm out of the bed, slipping on my cloak, and leaving my room. My boots are shoved on, and I wrap the thick cloak around me snugly.
The cold night air hits me in the face as I open the front door, and I wrap a scarf around my hair, the damp strands secured. I know what I have to do, and I'm determined to reach my goal.
I reach the spot that Death showed me where the boy had been murdered. The kelpies don't rise up from the waters-and mostly because I'm trying to ensure that they don't come this way.
Dropping down to my knees, I began to dig around the area with my bare hands, dirt covering my lap. I continue to do so, until I see the roots of the dead tree that looms over me. Moving to a different spot, I continue on, ignoring the bugs that crawl up and down my arms.
