Ava could stand it no more. She slipped to the floor, pulled on garments at random, and wrapped a scarf round her half-raveled braids. Darting through the kitchen and out the kitchen door, she earned a startled look from Billy, who always rose early to set the bread baking. The gray morning light was giving way to rose; the ground glittered as though gem-studded, but Ava didn’t notice the snow. All she saw was the little wooden church not twenty paces from the house. Heedless, she ran toward it, yanked open the door, and slid inside. She wanted to weep, but she clenched her teeth and her fists and silenced her tears. She did altogether too much weeping.
Her madness was worse here in the north—far, far worse. Dennis’s house was alive with devils. A creature with eyes like coals hid in the
