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“The rain lashed at her body, drenching her garments and chilling her to the marrow. She released a shuddering sneeze, rattling her teeth. Up above, crows circled, squawking at her, laughing at her misery, making a mockery of her brave quest.

“Shush!” she called back at them, knowing it was foolish, yet still feeling the irresistible urge to defend her dignity.

The forest, growing as sparsely as it did, offered no protection from the malevolent storm. Surely the cottage was nearby? She had traveled so long already; didn’t it have the heart not to hide itself?” – Emily Kinney, author of The Island of Lote

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