Page 81 of Molt

Then she says my name.

Not loudly. Not panicked.

Just…

“August.”

And I’m no longer in my apartment.

I’m standing in the snow.

1897…

I know the year before I know where I am.

Cold slices through my coat as snow gathers on my shoulders. There’s blood on my hands.

Lenora stands ten feet away from me.

My Lenora. The first Lenora.

Dark hair hanging loose around her face. White nightdress stained red. Bare feet disappearing into the snow. She’s crying.

I am too.

“Come back inside.” I beg her.

“No.” she shakes her head.

“You’ll freeze.”

“Good.”

“Lenora.” I warn.

“Don’t.” She backs away.

Something is wrong with her face. Not wrong.

Changing.

Her cheekbones have sharpened. Her jaw looks more like mine. Her eyes are still hers.

God. Those eyes.

I take a step.

She raises a knife. “Stay away from me.”

I stop. “Give me the knife.”

“No.”

“Lenora.”

“You lied.”

“I didn’t know.”