Chapter 12

• Isabella.
• The walk into town was exactly what I needed, mostly because I didn’t trust myself not to overthin if I stayed cooped up in tbat cottage any longer. After the dream, the rose, the woods and that constant feeling of being watched, my braid had become a very noisy, unsupervised room filled with broken records. I was going crazy. I could feel it.
• The air was crisp and the ground was damp from last night’s storm. My boots squelched against the path and I found comfort in that sound. There was nothing mysterious about mud, at least.