There is snow rolling off the ends of the delicate white branches of the Birch trees. She is sitting with her back to the slim white trunk and her eyes are scanning the skeletal forest beyond.

There, just beyond that small rise where the black river meets the west bank. Movement, darting. Her fingers are warm in their mittens but she finds herself sliding them off and dropping them onto the patchy snow. The cold hits them in an instant but she continues to sit frozen letting her bare red knuckles press the locket into the hollow of her neck. It’s an unconscious movement, slow and deliberate.

Her skin tingles. Had they seen her? The sheaf of papers pressed to her breast burns. A sudden movement to her left, a bird launches itself from the snow-covered brush in a flurry of feathers and ice. Still the silence clings.

Lyllian can feel breath about her face, fingers pressing into her cheek. Her eyes flutter open and she is looking deeply into the concerned eyes of Michael.

“Lyllian. Lyl? Love?” his voice is low and worried. “Lyllian? Are you with me?”

She sits up unsteadily. She’s on the couch. In their living room. The blue glow from the television halos his head as its bent over hers. She meets his eyes.

Where has she been? A forest? In winter? Being watched? Cold and afraid. Somewhere else. Somewhere she’s been before. 

Next Chapter: Lyllian 199Something