We’re seeing a lot of Isobel for these posts. She’s interesting and a little crazy and her secrets are run deep…
Later, Isobel could never say what kept her in the kitchen as the sun was setting. The wolves hadn’t yet started howling and the air felt cooler than was comfortable. She should have locked the kitchen door and retreated up to her tower to settle in for the night.
Instead, she crept to the cracked window looking out over the back garden and pressed her cheek against the glass.
There was change in the air. The weather would turn soon and she’d have to put extra layers on to stay warm.
Isobel blinked. Or had that already happened?
No. There was no snow on the ground yet. She’d spent the afternoon dragging wood in for her fire. Desperate to burn off some of her restless energy, she’d brought in everything she could find. The once-great entrance hall was stacked high with piles of wood and kindling.
Her mother would hate the mess she’d made.
[show-book title=”Cursed Bones”]
Until next week!
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