COATE STONE CIRCLE, APRIL 30th, 1872
“Why are you doing this? Let me go,” I demand, my voice trembling in fear. But my words only make her press the dagger deeper into my throat. I try not to panic as I feel warm liquid trickle down my neck, making me realize that she wounded me.
“You are not going anywhere,” she snarls, spitting over my cheek. “I have let you go enough times already, I am not repeating the same mistake again. I have finally run out of patience with you,” she continues, then starts dragging me beside her.
I try to resist, making this as difficult for her as I can, but she soon loses her temper. Before I know it, she removes the weapon from my neck and slices across my cheek with it. I gasp, already meaning to scream for help, but she places the tip of the da
