Eudora sprinted through her dream, toward the clearing in the wood. "Grandmother! Grandmother!" she called, looking around frantically. Winter was falling in Vermont, the grass was frosted and crunchy. The trees were barren of leaves, and stood like pale skeletons in the dim light. "Jericho!" She turned around desperately.
"I'm here, my child." Grandmother came shuffling, wearing heavy furs, her breath coming out in white puffs. She opened her arms, and Eudora fell into them, holding the fragile woman tightly. She smelled of clean fresh air and wood-smoke. Grandmother pulled back and brushed her hair out of her face.
"I'm in trouble." Eudora cried.
Grandmother shook her head. "It's not the man with the silly mustache. He is as harmless and pliable as a pup. But your uncle is
