Chapter 23 Signs Of Change

• The sky was a constant shade of steel these days, a dull, oppressive gray that never quite lifted. It wasn’t the kind of gray that promised snow or storms. It was the kind that felt permanent. As if the world had decided to settle into a cold, endless twilight. Lucy had stopped hoping for a break in the weather. The last time she’d seen clear skies was so long ago she wasn’t sure if it had been real, or just something her memory had softened over time.
• The foxes had started following her, their bright white coats ghostlike against the snow. She had finally managed to coax them near enough to touch — their fur warmer than she expected, soft like the brush of down feathers against her calloused palm. Each day since, they’d lingered a little closer, their wariness tempered by whatever quiet understanding had begun to settle between them.
• She hadn’t given them names yet.