When the Land Remembers

ut back from the city. Someone else had pinched a bottle of whiskey from a cupboard they thought woul

Everyone knew it. We'd grown up skimming stones along the stream that cut through it, carving initials into bark

burst and collapsed in uneven waves. Girls in borrowed coats huddled together against the damp cold, cig

it easily. Tha

ed well. I said thank you, smiled, said it back. I was good at that too-f

t, something in

I was already remembering the night rather than living it. The music skipped. A g

anyone could decide

ed was the soft crush of leaves under my boots and the low murmur of the stream somewhere to my le

as only stepping

horns and twigs, and I muttered under my breath as I freed it, stuffing it into my coat to keep

en I notice

e-another scatter of rock half-buried by time and moss

old bit through the fabric, but the stone beneath was st

revealed them

able in their intent. Bodies caught between shapes. Limbs stretched too far. Mouths opened in silent cries or ho

he middle of a sentence wi

the earth. A seam ran through it, so fine I might h

ind supplied

breath, the sound

culous," I sa

ssed my palm

t held it

ng sleeping just under the surface. My chest tightened, not with fear exact

r footsteps.

ss that comes when you're no longer th

ned s

meant to speak and thought better of it. Dark hair, dark eyes, his coat pulled ti

each other, e

ne else was out her

her

reach us. Whatever this place was, i

omething old and patien