Pen and Ink
“Did you hear that?” Elisenda asked.
Thistle shrugged. “No. What is it?”
“Sssh. That.”
“I still don’t—” Thistle’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, and then her expression changed to one of recognition. “That’s Lillia.”
They could hear her yelling, probably for help. Why did she need help? What danger would Lillia be in, and how could they possibly help her? Elisenda felt cold, and it wasn’t because they hadn’t had a fire. What had happened to Lillia? What would they find?
They followed her cries to a large hole in the ground.