{9}
The Grey OneSantha stood at the edge of the forest, peering into its depths. Behind her, the goats had already been tended to by their eldritch caretakers. Their soft bleats sounded content as they chewed their hay and lounged in the shade of their pen. The previous days’ events were long forgotten, but not by all. Gertie rested her chin on the pen gate and gazed forlornly at Santha, who turned back to the hidden path before her with true regret.
‘You have to help me,’ she told the key, raising it to her lips. ‘I don’t remember the way.’
The familiar tingle of cold throbbed in her left hand, followed by a pull from the key that led her past the tree line. She had not gone far when she started seeing blood everywhere. On tree trunks, leaves, the ground. It was glamour—it had to be—th
