Gemotions

The wind howled outside, rattling the windows of the cottage. Clara sat by the fireplace, the flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. Her fingers traced the lines of a worn map. She had escaped the city, seeking refuge in the quiet. The stillness of the mountains felt like a balm, at first.

She'd spent months painstakingly documenting the local folklore, creating her own book. It had become her life. She opened an email. A publisher had contacted her. Another author. Same subject. Similar story. Her blood ran cold.