DAPHNE
"Daphne... Daphne." The voice calls my name in a low, husky whisper. I shift slightly, still half-lost in sleep, unwilling to let go of its warmth.
"Daphne." It comes again, closer now, right at my ear.
I stir and roll over, blindly reaching for the comfort of the sheets... and fall.
With a hard thud, my body hits the ground. My eyes snap open.
The softness of my bed is gone, replaced by damp earth and the crunch of dried leaves. Trees loom overhead, their twisted limbs clawing at a sky cloaked in roiling dark clouds. I'm no longer in my room. This isn't home. This isn't anywhere I recognize.
My heart lurches. I sit up quickly, glancing down at myself, my nightdress still clings to my skin, wrinkled from sleep, now speckled with bits of leaves and dirt. The cold air bites at
