Chapter 90

Maren

I wake to the sound of dripping water.

For a moment I can’t tell if it’s real or still part of the dream. Each drop lands with a soft, deliberate rhythm, somewhere near the hearth where the last of the fire hisses low in its ashes. Pale morning light pushes through the cabin’s single window, slicing the room into bands of gold and shadow.

I sit up slowly. The blanket slides from my shoulders