Gabby: Turnersburg
The small wand, maple, lay on her tiny palm, and she sat, unmoving.
She could feel them leaving, one by one. The mass of kindred who had laid their will upon the place, taking lives, taking hope.
The world was not better for their walking in it.
She would be different from them.
Always.
She could feel them leaving, one by one. The mass of kindred who had laid their will upon the place, taking lives, taking hope.
The world was not better for their walking in it.
She would be different from them.
Always.