Firefly Glen wildflower

Purgatory, perhaps.

The woman called out from the shadows where she hid, unafraid but cautious all the same. Her heavily-accented voice carried melodically through the air. There was no trace of her own wonder or sorrow in the words, yet she felt these things. The truth was that she had asked herself this question more than once.

Maybe the answer didn't matter at all.

Her pale eyes gleamed from the dark, but she made no move.