A Mile From Gehanna's Gateway
Marretje adds when she sees me stare longer than necessary at the books; little does she know that I have less interest in reading.
I have my hands on the drawing in no time, my fingers neatly trailing the stained, softened edges of the paper. Something about the rough sketch etches a feeling of familiarity with it, but I am not certain if Katelyn once showed it to me.
Without warning, my head pulls back and my hands freeze, a bright white light flashing in front of my eyes before I could blink twice. My neck seems to snap from the force that is.
I am lost—somewhere in a cold acre full of ice and snow, so much snow that I struggle to keep my legs steady.
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