She started the car, pulled out of the lot, and drove fast and determined, knowing they’d never be the same, knowing they’d always hear that wailing from within the woods, no matter where they moved, no matter how much they healed, how old they grew. In the cracks of their new realities, they’d always hear the lamentation of the vain imp, its howlsong rising like misery, like horror, from the forest deep.
