Chapter 35 Glimpses Of Tomorrow

• The snow fell thicker now, a relentless curtain smothering Talawan in white. Lucy pressed her palm to the frosted windowpane, watching the world blur beyond the glass. It was the deepest cold yet, so severe that even the echoes of her own breath turned to mist and froze in midair. This was the first time Earth had ever known such a freeze. No record, no lore spoke of any winter lasting more than a season—until now.
• She turned away from the window and gathered her satchel. Inside lay another load of tinctures and poultices, harvested from the rooftop greenhouse blessed by her grandmother’s marble-carved sigils. The foxes stirred in the hearth’s glow: the healthy one hopped to her feet, nose twitching in eager anticipation; the injured one limped forward, tail wagging in quiet hope.
• “They want to come,” Lucy murmured, securing her coat. “But this time, you stay.”