‘Help!’ she cried out, and then again with more volume, ‘El! Stephen! Help! I need help!’ But there was no answering cry, or any other sound.
Fearful, Callie forced herself to pat down her dress and run her fingers through her hair, searching for the loathsome spiders, but she found nothing. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. She could face just about anything, so long as spiders weren’t involved. Summoning up the last shreds of her courage, she picked up her skirt and set off into the white mist, hoping that eventually it would lift sufficiently for her to find her way back to Camelot.
She caught her breath as sharp fingers suddenly scratched and tore her face. She threw up her hands to protect herself, and found that she’d walked into a spiky bush. Was she in some sort of garden? Or a
