Miri's Pov
The sound always came first.
A crack in the silence — not thunder, not wind — but something sharper. Like bone snapping. Or the way steel scraped against flesh if you pushed too deep.
Then came the cold.
It pressed against my back, wrapped around my legs like river water, soaking through. In the dream, I always felt smaller than I actually was — the way I had been back then. Five, maybe six. Small enough that Denise could carry me on one hip. Small enough that hiding behind her coat still felt safe.
But even that hadn't saved me from what I saw.
I woke up with the scream still caught in my throat. Not a loud one — no one would hear it anyway — but that muffled kind, like my body had tried to shout but the air wouldn't move. My shirt clung to my skin, drenched with sweat. I reached for the edge of my blanket and clenched it so hard my knuckles popped.
I hadn't had that dream in years.
Not since the war.
Not since Kael died.
