Hair like jet black silk, her white shapeless gown flowing in the autumn breeze. A thick fog hangs in the air, blanketing the forest that has now gone preternaturally silent. She stands with her back to me, unsettling, a small mercy that I cannot see her face.

I remember Nan's words, repeating them like a mantra in my mind.

_Do not look them in the eyes, and do not answer their calls - no matt...

Birds circle overhead as Cogan and I trek through the thick overgrowth of dry, hay-like grass coating the plains. I squint and place my hand to my forehead in attempt to shade my eyes and look up at the murder of crows that seem to have taken some amusement in observing our struggle. The sun is sweltering, blazing down on us through disgustingly dry heat, and there is no relief from the elements -...