(Isla)
The cabin is too quiet and Nyra hasn’t moved in hours.
She’s pressed against my mind, heavy and warm, like if she lets go I’ll float away. Outside, the wind died and even the trees stopped talking.
Tomorrow is the full moon.
I can feel it in my teeth and behind my eyes, like a storm is sitting under my skin and it won’t settle.
I shouldn’t close my eyes but I do it anyway.
Cold hits me first, but it was not the winter cold or snow cold. This is moon cold. The kind that lives where light touches and never leaves.
I’m standing in a field.
White flowers as far as I can see. They don’t have stems.
They have light and petals as thin as paper, glowing from the inside.
When the wind moves, they don’t bend, they turn.
All of them turn toward me.
Above me, the moon is wro
