d had always believed
s. If life was a garden, hers was meticulously
her nose and sighed. The other passengers - retirees in sweatshirts, families with sticky-fingered kids, a couple of exhausted hikers - paid her no mind. Good. Abby wasn't in the m
couldn't explai
tings, disguised as "just another busy semester." She had ignored the warning signs: the sleepless nights, the creeping cy
d "a bold new beginning" - it felt like a dare. Abby wasn't the daring type. But something
She packed a bag. S
s closed in, towering pines and dense underbrush. The road narrowed to a gravel path. Some
to the yoga studio downtown, or the sensible mindfulne
, the water so still it seemed like glass. On the far shore stood the resort itself: low, timber-fr
he strap of her leather bag.
wheezed
bellhop, not quite security - boarded and ca
r linen jacket, and sh
, warmer than she expected. The uniformed man smiled poli
re, Professor Stafford.
t the way he said it - not j
t a random choice, but p
k off th
ation. A little vitamin D an
was
a subtle smell of lavender - the kind of rustic luxury that was supposed to soothe fray
amber bottle. "Orientation is about to begin. Please start taking t
o label, just a tiny wolf e
ts?" she a
. "Think of them
bag, accepted a campus map - the grounds were much larger tha
t, something else pulsed - a low vibration, almost below the thr
self it was
was a chance to heal,
ow right - and ho