Maeve

Rowan and I walked in silence along the trail that led from the house to the old village. Small log cabins were scattered through the woods, their chimneys puffing smoke that hung in the air, mingling with the falling snow.

If Dad had known I was going out for a walk with Rowan, he would’ve stopped me, making me lay down and continue to listen to everyone arguing over my condition. But I felt better in the fresh air, our slow, easy walk alleviating my ...