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Rage and loss fought each other for prominence in the core of my soul, and I couldn’t remember why. My mind spread throughout my body as I gasped in confusion and cold. My fingers sank into the leaves and mud as I crawled from the moat. The world swooped and spun around me, and I pushed over onto my back before the water could swallow me again. The autumn air was cool but dry. I shivered as the water started to evaporate from my clothes, drawing my arms around myself as if holding a baby.

And there stood the woman at the top of the tower, holding the baby. The wind billowed her dress out to the side, and her hair flowed black against the orange sky. The silhouette of a tiny hand reached up to her face, and she lowered it slightly.

Her eyes were fierce. They glittered from beneath her hair, and didn’t break contact with mine even as she kissed the baby’s forehead. For a moment it was my own lips on the soft, warm skin, and I staggered toward the door with a cry of anguish.
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