She’d begun to see it in the daylight, moving between the trees—decayed skin stretched taunt and white, bleached bones protruding from the skeletal face. Hollow eyes, nothing more than empty sockets, followed her, boring into her. Even from this distance she could hear its vile, beating heart. Without a sacrifice it would draw nearer, eventually drawing her into the otherworld. Only a captured heart, substituted for the one Lugh had stolen from her, would hold it at bay. She could feel her skin crawling as it watched, turning her head and shivering from a winter breeze that did not exist.
Always, it watched.
Always, it followed, moving on rotten hooves and leaving behind the stench of a preternatural corpse.
Her mother had cursed her, and Elvira had stayed behind. She was no longer a part of that family. She needed to pursue another, more suited to her needs. Her father belonged to the coyotes. Intrigue aroused, she headed north. The cobweb gown hung loose on her limbs—once so plump and full, a gaunt, eerie beauty had taken over. Long, pale curls hung free, crowned by the black bow she’d worn since childhood. Within the jar nestled in her basket insects writhed and clawed at filthy glass, eager to regain freedom.
The sun hung low—blood red as early evening swept across the landscape, drawing the day to a steady close. Dead leaves and grass crunched beneath her feet—dried and dying from winter’s creeping embrace. She moved between the pikes—slowly and lofty as a lost soul, drawn to life by the impending twilight.