It was the beginning of October now, and the trees were suffocating themselves until they wore the thick mantles of gold and striking red Jeanne so loved. She could hear the crunch and snap of dead leaves beneath her feet as she stomped first through dying sunflowers and then through the bustling grove of weeping willows beside the river.
Jeanne tried not to think they were near the part of the river where she had buried the kitten. She sent a silent, little prayer for its safety, hoping it would eventually find its way to Jericho.
“It’s cold,” Paris complained, rubbing her hands down her arms.
“Why didn’t you bring a sweater?” Jedrick asked. “You even made Jeanne bring a sweater, but you didn’t bring one?”
“I forgot,” she sniffed.
At the same time, Jedrick and Jeanne grabbed her
