A tremor rippled through Lorraine's chest. Her gaze swept over the river, the silver bend of its current, the glint of sunlight trembling across the rocks, the soft hiss of water against the banks.
And then her breath caught.
This place… She knew it.
The realization struck her like a blade drawn too sharp, cold, sudden, and undeniable.
It was the river from her vision. The one where the waters had run red, curling around her legs like living veins of blood.
Her hand slipped from her stomach as she froze, every muscle locking in place. The same river. The same shape of the rocks. Only now, blanketed in the fragile beauty of melting snow. Spring had returned, and with it, the vision she had tried so hard to forget had come alive again, clearer than ever.
