The cabin in the middle ground was smaller than Cassie recalled. Or perhaps she had merely grown beyond her own skin.
She slumped over the fire, pen over paper, journal in her lap. The fire spat mindlessly to one side of her, but its heat could not possibly melt the bitter chill in her breast.
"To my little moon."
The words were barely readable as she scribbled them onto the first page.
"I don't know who you will be. I don't even know if I will live long enough to find you. But I must tell you, no matter how much the world is lying. Even if they call me a coward or curse. Even if your father never utters your name."
She paused.
Her hand trembled and released from the page. She closed her eyes. Her unborn child moved quietly in her womb—the only heartbeat close enough to hear her with
