The memory of the girl is the one aspect of the world beyond the Fold that refuses to let go. Grace is miles and universes away from the world, but the scent of the girl’s flesh, the look in her eye, forms a bridge between her old world and this Folded Land. If Grace could break the bridge, she would.

If she could bring the girl here, nurture her fairy blood, and make her an eternal companion... that would be better.

That would make her already long life, and the eternity still to come, complete.

3

3

Each morning Angela would wake from a nightmare. She rarely remembered them—that was a blessing, at least—but her sheets were always tangled, her skin damp and hot with nervous perspiration, and sometimes her throat was sore, her eyes stinging, as if she had been shouting and crying in her sleep. If that were the case, Sammi never commented. Sammi was a good kid.

Today was the same. She was used to the sense of rising from somewhere deep and dark, and feeling only mild relief at waking into the real world. The grimness of her nightmares, their dark echoes, accompanied her into the day. It felt so unfair having her mood determined by bad dreams. Plenty about her life felt unfair.

Angela sat on the edge of her narrow wooden cot, rested her elbows on her knees, and looked down at the floor. She was all too familiar with the joints, cracks and knots in the floorboards. Sometimes she looked at the dark lines of the joins and wondered what lay beneath them. The truth was, it was simply the crawlspace beneath the cabin, too narrow for her to enter, home to insects and spiders and perhaps snakes. Nowadays she spent a lot of time looking at familiar objects and spaces—fallen trees, turns in forest paths, dark crevasses in piles of rocks—and wondering what might be beyond.

These were the creatures and places that gave her nightmares and haunted her waking hours.

“Sammi!” she shouted. She knew her niece would be awake and out of bed. She usually saw in the dawn, and sometimes she was already gone from the small cabin when Angela rose. She tried not to feel concerned when this happened. Sammi needed to explore and exist in a world that was anything but safe. Keeping her constrained and wrapped in cotton wool would benefit neither of them.

“Coffee’s already on!” Sammi replied from beyond the door.

Angela smiled. She rubbed her face, trying to wipe away the dregs of her nightmares. Although she recalled nothing of her dreams, they dragged her down. Old memories circled her. She could feel the stare of the Kin on the back of her neck. She could almost taste Vince on her lips, and feel the ghost of his hand in hers.