Larksong Grotto In the driveway,

It was hard to keep her gaze from roaming to the mountains—yet each sweep of her gaze only stirred the heart in her chest to squeeze painfully, and she would just as quickly look away, as if burned by the mere sight of them. Stigmata, her heart whispered despite her insistence of hushing the inner voice.

It seemed it could never be silenced.

The pale woman had drifted further from the coast—further from the safety of the forests and dense lands and now found herself in lands she had yet to explore.

The scent of the pond was what had drawn her attention, and then her sharp green eyes roved the woman with light disinterest. Yet the tantalizing wind of the colder autumn swept past her, and with it—the faintest trace of another that once more caused her heart to murmur softly within its prison.

She found herself too stunned to find words, her mind reeling with the teasing past.