45
I woke long before Finn the next morning. I’d slept through the night without any terror chasing behind me, but as soon as I opened my eyes, awful images gnawed at the corners of my mind. I lay by Finn’s side, trying to keep still as I battled my own thoughts.
Memories of Harane, of the horror I had abandoned my home to, were better off banished to the deepest corners of the blackness where I tucked the things I was not strong enough to remember. I didn’t want the images of Lily hanging from the tree to make my hands tremble, but I could not purge the picture from my mind.
What did people say of Lily? What did travelers whisper to each other of the terror of Harane?
The soldiers had slaughtered our people and burned our homes. Had the villagers tried to erase those horrors? Did they
