DARRAGH

By dawn, Mom and I were back on the road. The truck’s headlights cut through the mist that clung to the fields, throwing pale beams across the damp gravel. A single suitcase rested in the back seat, packed with the bare essentials. She’d tried to take more, but I’d convinced her that traveling light was safer. The less trace she left, the better.

The protection rune Elena had carved into her shoulder was still fresh, still angry red under her shirt. I could tell she was favoring ...