The Near Witch

by Victoria Schwab

The trees all whisper, leaves gossiping. The stones are heavy thinkers, the sullen silent types.

If the moor wind ever sings, you mustn’t listen, not with all of your ears. Use only the edges. Listen the way you’d look out the corners of your eyes. The wind is lonely, love, and always looking for company.

I absolutely loved how lyrical V.E Schwabs writing was in the beginning of this book. I wish it was like this throughout.

The wind beats in my ears with my pulse. And then the clouds slip in. They sweep silently across the sky and swallow the moon, and just like a candle snuffed out, the world goes dark.