Erin opened her eyes. Facing her was a high ceiling with dark wooden beams going from one side to the other. Orange shapes danced about on it, and a familiar crackling and popping filled the room. She sat up, greeted by stark white bedsheets that were stiff and smelled like honey. Propping herself against the pillow, she saw a vibrant fire burning behind the grate.
The mantelpiece was mahogany, carved with birds and flowers; she remembered caressing them with her hands when she was a child, delighted at the touch of the smooth wood.
Her room at her parents’ house – the last place she had expected to have been taken. Despite her misgivings, the warmth from the hearth and the familiar closeness of all the things she had left behind gave her comfort, and as she could see through the gap in
