“The next day brings snow. The black trees all around are...

“The next day brings snow. The black trees all around are edged each one in flakes, a pale white line on every limb. Jagged serrations of ice cover the road, hard as iron. When we move out of the ravine on the straight again, we can see that the manor house has grown slightly closer. The two small guardhouses of the manor stand between the road and the valley of a river.

If only we could reach the manor house, we might be safe. But it is too far away, a mirage on that distant hill.

I pull aside the soles that are strapped to my feet. Underneath, my feet are streaked with cuts and dark abrasions. Thorns, branches, and sharp ice have graved their signs on me, a medley of runes written in some strange tongue.”

— from the novel Sinful Folk