Short Story

Miranda watches as the tree’s purple roots slowly lap blood from the frozen topsoil. They twist and slither over the ground, pushing away the pebbles that surround its base, looking for every last drop within their reach. The cut on her arm stopped bleeding a moment ago, and she glances at her phone, a stop watch running on its screen.

I am collecting rocks at the edge of the wilderness when Talik finds me. I hear him before I see him, wings flapping as he flies between crumbling towers towards the open expanse of my improvised quarry. I pause in my work, gripping a sharp stone tight in my hand.

Eddie Cohallan hated winter, and that was only thing that was keeping him warm this night…