Chapter 1, 3rd revision

Chapter One
December 30th, 2003

Kyla hated the Highlands. She marched through the forest searching out the stream where her mother was buried, cursing as she tripped over the heavy brush. It was a hurried march, almost militant as she kept up her pace.

The morning sky burned orange over the mountain range ahead of her as she walked through the light layer of snow. Her hiking boots were soaked through and her right pinkie toe became painfully frozen. Kyla shivered while glancing up at the snow capped hills and she pulled her heavy coat tightly around her. Thank God she grew up in London. Kyla would take the hustle and bustle of the busy streets of the city over the grassy hills and dense forests of the Highlands any day. She was out in the middle of nowhere watching squirrels scurry away from her as thoughts of her mother flooded her mind.

Her mother would have lived in the Highlands and raised Kyla on the Logan lands had she been able to afford to rebuild the ruins of a clan forgotten.

The 18th century was an exciting, yet brutal time. Although the era intrigued Kyla, enough for her to take a job at the University in London to teach history, she never could quite grasp the mentality of the Highlanders…not like her mother could.

The land could barely grow grain and famine wiped most of them out even after the battles. Why didn’t they just give up? Her mother told her it was out of pride. Honor caused the Highlanders to fight for their land. They wanted freedom. Her mother tried to explain to Kyla the importance of family and being able to live under your own rule…to live with freedom as they did now. It also caused them to starve and die, a concept that Kyla couldn’t sympathize with. Honor was to stay with your family, to keep them safe, no matter where that might be. She didn’t understand it and doubted she ever would.

She found the marker she was looking for. A large boulder jutting out of the ground with a shallow cross etched into it. Brush and trees grew on the stone and vines wrapped their way around it.

She headed left.

The Logan graveyard wasn’t far. Tears filled her golden eyes as she thought about years gone by. As much as the two differed, it had been just the two of them. It wasn’t right that her mother was taken from her so soon, leaving her all alone.

She had been prepared for her mother to die before her, but not like this, not so soon. Her one year anniversary approached. At first it hurt to breathe. Kyla felt as if her world had ended the moment her mother looked up at her from the street, covered in blood.

The drunk driver that hit her was sent to prison but that wasn’t harsh enough for Kyla. She remembered the look of shock on his face when he stumbled over reeking of alcohol and Kyla had stood up and punched him right in the face, knocking him to the ground unconscious.

Kyla snorted aloud at the memory as tears ran down her face. She slumped down next to a large tree and picked up some dried leaves through the snow. Crumbling them through her fingers she didn’t bother to wipe away the tear that threatened to drop from her nose. She remembered her mother’s last words…that it was her destiny to die.

“And what would you know about destiny Mother?” Kyla looked to the sky waiting for a sign that she knew in her heart wouldn’t come, it never did. She reached up and felt the silver cross against her chest, the only thing she had left of her mother.

The sun rose over the ridge and Kyla wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her coat. “What was it about this place?” She was used to talking to her mother still, even though she never got a response. It wasn’t all that much different when her mother was alive. She pulled herself up and continued on picking the few flowers that bloomed through the light layer of snow.

A stream came into view and Kyla followed it north, knowing it would lead her to the gravesite. Her breath drew in sharply when she saw it. The final resting place of Margaret Marie Logan, as it should be, she thought.

Kyla walked to her mother’s grave and placed her finger over the cold slab of rock. It looked bright and shiny next to the weathered old stones that lay around her.

“I’m here,” Kyla said and knelt next to her mother placing the flowers on her grave, “just as I promised you.”

Biting her nails as she sat next to her mother, she felt the cold ground seep through her jeans freezing her knee caps. Her fingers were sore and numb. She always chewed on her nails more when she was nervous.

Hogmanay, Kyla had come to the Highlands to celebrate the coming of the New Year, just as she had promised. By tomorrow night she'd be back in Edinburgh, surrounded by thousands of people, watching the flambeaux light, throwing up sparks into the air. She would get through the night and head back home to London and then on to America. A trip planned only a week ago, after abruptly giving her notice at the University.

She rose and moved to the next pair of stones. They were faded and weather-beaten. Kyla remembered the names from years gone by, Charles and Emily Logan. Her pruned fingers followed the shallow lines etched into the rock. Her mother had placed flowers on these graves, had cried for the people who walked these lands before her. Kyla sucked in her bottom lip in thought. “Why?” she asked a black bird that decided to keep her company. He flew away at her question.

Her stomach growled loudly notifying her it was time to head back. The walk had been long and she was already getting hungry and tired. She still needed to hike back to where she had left her car. She returned to her mother’s grave and laid her hand on the mound one last time then she stood to leave. She wasn’t sure she’d be back next year.

She entered her hotel room after the drive back to Edinburgh. The hike and the drive had taken everything out of her. Deciding the bed looked more inviting than food at the moment, she went straight to the mattress. Sleep is where Kyla could escape the pain that the days brought to her. She was lonely and slipping into depression. She thought about seeking counseling, but didn’t have the strength to do that.

She flopped on the hard mattress and slipped into slumber, hoping she’d meet her warrior, the only person left that could comfort her. A man her imagination had conjured up to get her through the nights.

The fog was thick as she walked up the hill in the twilight, the gloaming as her mother called it. Her bare feet disappeared under the carpet of mist as she continued forward. Her ankle length, silk nightgown moved smoothly across her body with each step.

Tilting her head upwards, she saw the first star appear and she closed her eyes making her wish. It was the same wish she made every night.
She knew he would be there just beyond the hill, waiting for her.

She ran towards him when his face came into view. His long copper hair flowed down his shoulders to his back. His dark beard covered his face and his crystal green eyes glowed in the moonlight. He smiled widely and opened his arms for her to enter his world. His kilt swayed softly in the wind, showing long muscular legs and his heavy cloak was wrapped up over his large comforting chest.

“I knew you would come,” he whispered in her ear as he pulled her against his massive frame.
“I knew you would be here,” she answered. She put her head against his chest and breathed him in deeply. “You’re always here for me.”

When she opened her eyes, she saw it was morning. New Years Eve was approaching and Kyla sighed loudly throwing a pillow over her head. Why did she make this ridiculous promise? She hated being here without her mother.

Kyla sat up and looked into the open closet where her 18th century, maroon gown was waiting for her, another silly tradition that her mother insisted upon. She lay back down and curled her body into the fetal position.

The first year she’d be celebrating the New Year alone. Kyla was filled with a sense of dread, knowing instinctively that she would soon be forced to walk down that same street where her mother had been struck down. The thought made her dizzy and she shut her eyes hoping she’d fall back to sleep.

Her stomach growled reminding her that she still hadn’t even eaten yesterday.

Throwing back the pillow with a moan, she picked up the phone and ordered room service.

She wasn’t ready to head out into the streets where she heard the crowds gathering so she ordered a pot of tea along with a large breakfast.

It was going to be a long day.

With a belly full of food and a clearer head, she dressed up in her maroon gown and her leather shoes, which did nothing for the cold. She took the time to brush out her straight highlighted hair. She spent a fortune on a new hair cut and highlighting for her trip to America. It lay jaggedly around her face with blonde streaks heading from her scalp through her chestnut brown hair down to her shoulders. The woman at the beauty salon had called it “chunking”. Kyla thought it was a little much but was assured that it was the latest fashion. She wanted a change it would just take a little time to get used to.

Kyla ran her fingers through the shortened locks. She could only imagine the argument she would have had to endure if her mother could see her now.

Her pockets held money, lipstick and mascara and, of course, her journal. She had a few dollars of American money that she had exchanged in anticipation of her trip.

She wrote in her journal before she headed out. Kyla had kept it since she learned how to write.

December 31st, 2003

New Year’s Eve is approaching. I miss you mother. I hate being in Edinburgh by myself. I hope I can make it through the long night to see the lighting as I promised you.

Kyla put her pen to her mouth. What else could she say? She flipped back through the entries over the past year. A sentence here and there told her she hadn’t had much to say at all since her mother’s death.

Previous year’s entries usually stared with: “Mother and I…,”

Kyla mourned the loss of her friend, her mother and her confidant. She tucked the journal and pen back into her pocket and headed out the door.

Her toes hurt from the cold as she went from place to place, browsing the stores. She nodded back to the few people who managed to smile at her.

The day was clear with no sign of rain, but even the sun couldn’t warm the icy air hitting her in the face and freezing her lungs causing her to take in shallow breaths. Tears ran down her cheeks and her nose began to run from the shrill wind.

Meat pies and fried herring wafted towards her mixed with the smell of the sea. Kyla slipped into a pub and ordered a pint of ale. It was early yet, but she hoped the ale would warm her and she really had no where else to go.

The dark fluid burned as it ran down her throat but warmed her instantly, starting with her frozen toes. The heat moved its way up into her head and her spirits lifted slightly. Kyla ordered another, against all her better instincts, and drank it down hastily. She was never much of a drinker and could already feel her head spin slightly and her speech begin to slur with each order.

By late afternoon Kyla was fully intoxicated. She headed out of the pub when the bartender shook his head at her after she ordered one more and searched out a new pub, which wasn’t hard to find.

The crowd had gathered, making it easy for her to order another pint of ale amongst the hundreds of people crammed into the tiny establishment. Kyla laughed as she bounced off the strangers, hearing them cheer and sing. For a moment, a short moment, she forgot why she was here. She felt joy and peace for the first time in a year and she soaked in the high spirits of the people surrounding her. She was part of the celebration, the coming of the New Year where people promised new beginnings and made resolutions they’d never keep. For this one night, they meant it wholeheartedly.

Kyla made her own resolution this night. She promised that she would learn to live on, to start over. Kyla vowed that she would try to be happy. She would stop searching for signs that her mother was alright somewhere and she’d stop looking for a warrior that only existed in her dreams.

A tall, dark haired man with blue eyes swung her around the dance floor, smiling brightly at her and Kyla laughed. She danced her way out of the pub and hit the street giggling.

She bent over with her hands on her knees breathing heavily watching large clouds of steam leave her mouth. Suddenly her giddiness was gone. A strange feeling spread from the pit of her belly up through her chest and into her throat.

“Oh not again,” Kyla said aloud, hearing the desperation in her voice. A panic attack was hitting her as her heart sped up and her palms began to sweat.

She looked around the town and saw nothing out of the ordinary, but the feeling was there as she slowly made her way forward. Her eyes dodged back and forth through the crowd. What seemed like fun before was torture now as anxiety overwhelmed her. A passerby glared strangely at her and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She reached her hand, under her hair, behind her head and brushed them down .

Kyla began to run. She stumbled and tripped over her feet as the alcohol flooded her system.
She ran as fast as she could, trying to shake the odd feeling. She knew it was a panic attack, Professor Sullivan had told her what it was. But Kyla wasn’t so sure…It was the same feeling she had one year ago, this very night. If only she had told her mother about it, maybe she could have saved her.

Kyla was fully sweating as she ran faster, sprinting towards Tron Kirk where the crowd was growing thicker. She turned to look behind her as she kept up her pace when she smashed into something and fell hard, landing on her behind.

“Ouch,” Kyla heard in front of her and slowly sat up staring at a woman that looked so much like Kyla she pulled her head back and rubbed her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Kyla said with a pounding heart. She was breathless from running and stood to help the woman up. She reached out her hand and the woman grabbed it, standing up to face her.

“Och, think nothing of it lass. I should have been watching where I was going.” The woman answered, but Kyla saw she held the same look of awe.

“Are you related to the Logan’s?” Kyla asked, still holding on to her hand. That’s a stupid question, there are no Logan’s left, she thought. She loosened her grip when she realized just how hard she’d been clutching the girl.

“Maybe somewhere down the line.” She answered glancing at Kyla with an appraising look. “My name is MacFarlane, Heather MacFarlane.”

“It’s just that…”

“Aye, I can see it. They say we all have a twin in the world.” Heather answered casually, but still hadn’t blinked.

“I guess so.” Kyla released her hand. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine.” She answered and turned to leave. She turned one last time to see Kyla standing dumbfounded.

The girl had her mind buzzing. Maybe she was just drunk, but the girl had seen the resemblance too. “No more ale Kyla Logan,” she told herself aloud and continued to walk at a much slower pace.

The strange feeling she had felt moments ago had diminished somewhat, but still nagged at her. It was as if something horrible was about to happen only she didn’t know what.

Professor Sullivan would tell her it was a panic attack. Her colleague at the University was the only person Kyla ever talked to. She had learned to be as closed up as her mother, never letting anyone in. Professor Sullivan always listened and always had the same answer, “seek counseling Kyla,” he would tell her. He was a kind man with a bald head and hazel eyes. Kyla loved his eyes, more violet than hazel, he always seemed to know the right thing to say to her. She had told him it felt to be more of a premonition than a panic attack. He had scratched his clean shaven chin and nodded, he did believe in premonitions, but he didn’t think that’s what Kyla was experiencing. He spoke words like “post traumatic stress syndrome” and “depression”.

She continued to stroll down the street looking back up the hill. Dim yellow lights lit up the street encircled with yellow mist from the moisture laden air.

The crowd thickened into a ball. Like bees returning to their queen, they buzzed looking up to the large wooden cross. They were getting ready to light the flambeaux.

Edinburgh Castle stood out ahead of her. Although she’d visited it many times, it still took her breath away. Rebuilt many times over the centuries, it stood tall with lit windows watching over the city like a stone God. Towers on each side of the palace resembled arms outstretched welcoming its people.

Kyla knew what the castle had endured and yet it looked untouched. It sat on a ridge with the water behind it.

The fog was thick on the ground and Kyla began to shiver. The cold temperatures cut right through her cloak and she reached behind her to pull her hood over her head and tucked her damp hair behind her ears. Her face was red and frozen and her hands were numb. She rubbed them together bringing her fingers warmth from friction as her focus stayed on the castle.

She walked past Tron Kirk where they were just about to light the torch and headed straight for The Castle Esplanade. It seemed to pull her to it, as if her feed moved without conscious thought.

She walked through the Portcullis Gate and slipped into St. Margaret’s Chapel, the oldest building still in tact on the grounds. The chapel was crowded and Kyla knelt to pray for her mother and for the New Year to come.

Warmer, but still feeling uneasy, Kyla walked back out and headed for the castle. She passed the tall tower next to the gate where they used to hold prisoners of war. She walked passed the witches well where they used to burn women at the stake and quaked at their unfortunate fates.

The surf beat against the ridge behind the castle blurring out the sounds of the party. Kyla smelled snow. She put her face up just in time for a large crystal to float down and land on her cheek melting instantly. The crisp smell of evergreens from the castle gardens mixed with the scent of cold surrounded her.

Putting her head down against the cold, she moved forward towards the wooden doors.

Kyla found herself inside the glorious castle where people mulled about. She wasn’t quite sure what she was doing in the castle when she should be outside waiting for them to light the torch.

The first floor held pictures of previous Queens and Kings. She looked into the cold uncaring eyes of King George, the German King from the house of Hanover. His reign had sparked the 1715 uprising. The castle in London at Westminster Abbey held the same picture. At one time he was King over Great Britain which consisted of England and Scotland as one country, maddening the Highlanders into battle. They had fought for the House of Stuarts. They did not want Scotland and England to be one.

She shook her head and moved on. She still didn’t understand it.

The wood floors gleamed as people slowly headed out towards Tron Kirk to watch the lighting of the torch. Sounds of clicking feet echoed throughout the hall until the castle emptied out and Kyla was alone.

Too much ale and not enough food had Kyla’s stomach turning on her. The room began to spin and she walked around the empty palace searching out a restroom. They were dimming the lights and Kyla knew they were getting ready to close the doors. Her search became a quest as she felt her mouth water and prayed she could hold the ale down long enough to find the bathroom. She clumsily trampled through room after room of the huge castle. She had lost her bearings completely and silence engulfed her as she entered the next area.

To her relief, she saw a security guard standing by the door and she went to him quickly, begging him for help.

“The restroom is right through those arches lass, but ye best hurry they are lighting the torch and the castle is closing, ‘tis almost midnight.”

Kyla knew time was growing short, but her stomach didn’t care that it was almost midnight. The room spun around her as she walked through the tall arches the security guard had pointed out. It was dark and she saw no sign of a restroom as she felt her way along the wall. Kyla moved away, groping out into the darkness when she tripped. She landed on her knees feeling soft velvet against her ankles. A rope, logic told her.

“Bloody hell,” Her knees burned but it was too dark to see the damage. Sick, lost and completely defeated Kyla reached out with her hands and felt a rough bench.

Fatigue and nausea overwhelmed her as she scooted her body towards the support and laid her head on the bench. Kyla felt as if the whole world had spun off its axis. Bells began to chime in the background.

She reached up and snatched the cross from her neck holding it in front of her eyes. She counted each clang of the tower outside as tears blurred her vision of the necklace; it was midnight.

She was going to miss the lighting.

“I’m sorry Mother,” she whispered staring down at the cross she could barely see through the blackness. A single drop fell from her nose and splashed on the silver. It rolled off the metal and on to the bench she had been laying on… lighting it up.

Kyla lifted her head slowly as the bench began to glow. First a blue neon light came from underneath and then it changed to purple and then pink, all the colors of the rainbow merged together brightly, encircling her.

“What the…,” Kyla held on tightly as she looked down to see the bench. It had a large cross etched into the hard stone. It spun around faster and faster and the light emanating from it blinded her.

Spinning faster than her vision could keep up with and the blinding light tearing through her brain, Kyla began to scream.

Pain seared through her body as she clutched the stone tightly feeling as if her insides were trying to come out. A narrow tunnel came into view filled with colors. Kyla fought with her hands and her feet, she clutched the stone harder as the tunnel pulled her into it. Her strength left her and she began to fall, screaming in agony as the lights encircled her. Her bones began to shatter, her muscles collapsed. Kyla tried to grasp something, anything but the sides were smooth. Her hands became translucent in front of her eyes. She lifted her head still shrieking as the room changed from the castle to a forest. With every turn, she saw a different scene in front of her.

She continued screaming even through a man’s voice that finally penetrated her mystified mind.

“I said hush lass,” he hissed.

She was still clutching the bench but shut her eyes tightly. His voice brought her back to her senses and her screaming subsided. With closed eyes, she mentally went down her body. Her shattered bones seemed in tact. Her hands felt solid as the clutched the stone but she didn’t dare open her eyes to see.

The bench felt rough and cold and Kyla slowly peeled open her eyes only to find it was not the bench she was clinging to, but a large rough tree trunk.

She looked around and focused her vision with her jaw dropped open. She was no longer indoors but outside sitting on the cold ground with her arms and legs wrapped around a tree. The wind hit her face and she turned her head to see a tall man with long dark hair. His kilt swayed in the wind with a checkered piece of material pulled over his shoulders and up around his head. His face was full of black hair that hid his mouth and his wide eyes reflected the flame of the torch he was holding.

Confusion overtook pain. Where is the castle? Where is the bench? Her mind asked questions that Kyla had no answers for as she stared at the man looking down at her. She realized her body was shaking hard enough to cause her teeth to clank together.

“What in God’s name is the matter with ye?” He asked looking as confused as she felt.

Kyla shook her head hard. She closed her eyes and reopened them. He was still there, she was still outside. Had she been dreaming? She tried to stand using the tree for help and promptly fell back to the ground. Her legs were throbbing, in fact every muscle in her body seized up on her and she quickly realized she couldn’t stand.

“What in God’s name is the matter with ye?” The man repeated his question. His eyes opened wide at her attempt to stand.

“I’m sorry, I’ve had too much to drink and…,”
Kyla stopped talking when she heard a gasp behind the dark haired man.

“She’s English!” The man said and stepped into view.

Kyla’s brows drew together. What did that matter? There were plenty of English people at the gathering. Besides Kyla was one hundred percent Scottish, she was just raised in England. She didn’t voice her thoughts but concentrated on the man that had come inches from her face. A scar ran from his forehead down to his mouth, causing her stomach to lurch and at last the ale won the battle. Kyla turned her head as her stomach heaved coughing out the alcohol that burned her throat as it made its way out. She kneeled over, uncaring that two strangers were standing there watching her get sick all over herself.

“She may be English, but she didna lie about having too much of the drink.” The dark haired man said, laughing at the sight of her.

When the last of it was out of her, Kyla turned back to the men. “I think I’m a little lost.” She whispered through her sore throat.

“Yer more than a little lost lass.” The dark haired man answered, pulling her up to her feet roughly. She winced in pain and looked around the dark forest, searching for something familiar, something that would explain how she got from the castle to the forest.

“Kill her now Colin, we doona have time for this.” The scarred faced man said.

Kyla’s heart thumped once in her chest at his statement. She turned her head from the thick trees to the men; no one was around to help her.

“Where am I?” She asked meekly. She couldn’t have run that far away from town.

The dark haired man, she now knew was named Colin, laughed again. He lowered the torch to her face and the smoke made her eyes water.
“Who sent ye here?” He asked her when he was done laughing. His face was stern but his eyes still held a hint of amusement.

“No one sent me here. I came here to celebrate the New Year.” Kyla answered honestly. She turned her head again in all directions. There must be someone mulling about in these trees. When she saw no one around, she looked back to Colin.

The feeling was back. It hit her in the gut and she knew exactly what it was…something was wrong. She clearly remembered being in the castle, not in a forest. She wasn’t that drunk. She remembered laying her head on the bench and the lights that encircled her.

She remembered seeing the cross on the bench.
Kyla gasped at the memory.

It wasn’t just a bench she had been laying on. She had taught her class about it, shown many pictures of it. She had told her students the history of the famous stone that was said to have been Jacob’s pillow from biblical times. It was the Stone of Destiny, The stone that all the Kings and Queens had sat on for their coronation. She had been lying on the Stone of Destiny, not in a forest.

“Why would ye come all the way here to celebrate the New Year?” Colin asked her. He tilted his head and raised a dark brow. “And why would ye be celebrating the New Year today?” The flames from the torch threw dark shadows across his face and Kyla was suddenly frightened by him.

“Who are you?” Kyla looked from man to man. Their hair was long and braided down one shoulder. They were large in size and intimidating. The scarred man had lighter hair and looked angry at her sudden appearance. He eyed her suspiciously and turned his attention back to Colin.

“I ken ye better tell me who you are first lass.” Colin said.

Kyla pulled her shoulders back. Her head ached from the ale and the horrible ordeal she had seemed to just go through. “My name is Kyla Anne Logan.” She said confidently. “Is it not the 1st of January?” She asked with less confidence. Had she been unconscious?

Colin laughed again. “The Lass has spirit Duncan.” He said, walking around her in slow strides. “We find ye on our lands, screaming loud enough to wake the dead. Yer clothes are torn apart, which makes me think ye’ve been traveling awhile. Yer English, which is enough to kill ye right now, and yet…ye still hold yer pride. ‘Tis an odd way for an Englishwoman to react when she’s come across two men in the middle of the forest on their own land is it not?”

“Your land?” Kyla croaked. Did he own all of Edinburgh?

“Aye, ye are trespassing on the land MacFarlane, ye would have been missed if ye hadna screamed lass. What scared ye so?”

“I scared her Colin. She saw me coming and got scared of being captured. Now we must go, yer brother is waiting on us.” Duncan replied, reaching for his dirk.

She watched him look around the forest in jerky motions. He was afraid of something. Kyla prayed someone from the law was after them. He looked to be on the run. She caught the glint of the torch on the blade of his knife. It was rusty and the faint metallic smell of blood caught her attention.

“No Duncan, ‘tis Alastair’s decision. We will bring her to him.” Colin said, his deep voice bouncing off the trees of the forest. He reached over and lowered Duncan’s knife with his hand, shaking his head at the man.

Kyla let out the air she had been holding in her lungs.

“Then be done with it. Get the wench and let us go. We must get back to town.” Duncan said, glancing around nervously. “We’ve a long way to go yet.” He shoved his knife back under his belt.

“Are ye alone lass…and doona lie to me, ye’ll regret it if ye do.” Colin pulled out his own dirk smoothly and as swift as a card shark revealing the ace of spades. He laid it lightly against Kyla’s neck.

Her legs grew weak and her vision began to blur again. She could feel the steel against her throat, a sensation that had her wondering if it was burning her skin or freezing it. She nodded without thinking.

The two men tied a rough, scratchy rope around her wrists and continued on through the forest to Kyla’s relief. Surely someone would come wandering through and see that she was in trouble. Her hope began to fade the longer they traveled.

When her legs could take no more, Kyla fell to the ground, halting the two. She felt like they had walked for an eternity, although reason told her it had been less then a half hour. They had not come across a single soul traveling through the thick brush. Her feet grew blisters and her muscles screamed at her. The stone had twirled her around and not only ripped her strength from her but her sanity as well.

“Get up,” Colin said unfeeling.

Kyla shook her head, feeling tears well up in her throat. Better to let them kill her now. She had always heard not to go with strangers but to try to escape.

“I can’t.” She said and lay down on the snow covered ground. Her body could not go one more step. Her throat hurt and her stomach still ached but her legs could not hold her weight any longer.

Kyla lost all thought after that when she saw him walk towards her with the torch. She watched the light narrow down into a small pinprick of light until all she saw was darkness.