Cold, sickly terror woke her, followed by a desperate urge that demanded she leave the broken pieces of her mother behind.  “Yes...come now,” the voice sang with the wind, carrying snow and the heavy scent of ash through the edge of the forest.

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.