Eidolon Ave: The Second Feast
The books once again cradled in her arms, her purse still snug over her shoulder, head down, her free hand wiping the wet from her knees, she struggled to her feet.
“Don’t find your book,” the voice said from above. Female. The words as quiet as breath.
Raindrops pelted her, the cold of coming night arriving on a bracing gust of wind.
She glanced around, checking behind her, assuring herself that the stack she clutched to her chest was complete with no orphans accidently left behind. “No, no, I have them all, thank you,” she said to the stranger.
“In you—” the woman was saying, her words, already as tenuous as spun glass, lost to the wind, the final “No” the only other word able to escape th
Sikat na Kabanata