She pulled her hand from her thigh and examined it. Old blood, cracked and smeared where snow melt had disturbed it, but nothing fresh.
Every memory felt like yesterday, but she knew nothing of today.
No. Not nothing. Some things came to her.
The sensation of silk on skin. The sound of bells. Each memory a wedge between the self she feared and the self that was Ayessa.
She clenched her hand into a fist and pounded it into her thigh.
"No," she said, defiant. "I will not forget her."
She pushed the other memories away and groped for another piece she could hold on to.
Smoke, ash grey and acrid with the scent of charred flesh, filled the air around her.
It would do. She inhaled.
YOU ARE READING
Winter's Tree
Fantasy[Open Novella] - [Long Listed] In the middle of a snow encrusted field stands a tree. Ancient and formidable, its roots run deep below the surface, carrying secrets that could unravel the very fabric of reality. Follow Ayessa as she struggles to rem...
