“The Wylder Mountains are cursed, Beauty,” the beggar said with a harsh rasp. “and your kin could not leave of their own free will. I promised to find you, to tell you they yet live.”

Vynasha rocked with him beneath the barn overhang, within the snowdrifts, and whispered against his skin. She uttered forbidden words her mother had whispered to her deep in the night, in that strange musical tongue Vynasha had half forgotten. She remembered it now as the darkness stirred beneath her skin. “We must be careful, my starling,” Mother had made her promise. “Be oh, so careful. To give life, we must always sacrifice.” The little body in her arms did not grow cold as it should have. It shuddered against her in spasms. Vynasha squeezed her eyes tightly shut as the little hands clenched her arms in a tight grasp. Wyll sucked in a hoarse gasp as he breathed new life. The little boy whimpered and then spoke as though back from a long sleep, “Asha?”

Vynasha ignored the way the snow soaked through her house slippers. She’d forgotten her boots and her coat. But the darkness still clawed at her skin, begging to be set free. She didn’t dare turn back.