Go Tell the Bees that I Am Gone (Outlander, #9)

by Diana Gabaldon

YOU KNOW THAT SOMETHING is coming. Something—a specific, dire, and awful something—will happen. You envision it, you push it away. It rolls slowly, inexorably, back into your mind. You make what preparation you can. Or you think you do, though your bones know the truth—there isn’t any way to sidestep, accommodate, lessen the impact. It will come, and you will be helpless before it. — You know these things. — And yet, somehow, you never think it will be today.