The water was cold. Excruciatingly cold. My fingers grew instantly numb as I brushed them through the thin layer of ice above the lake. This was living. This was breathing. This was being alive for only moments before time caught up with me. I wrapped my silver tapestry tighter around my bare arms and prayed that it would keep me safe. At least for a little while. At least until I saw him.
YOU ARE READING
The Weaver
FantasyElayne is cursed. She is doomed to die a horrible death if she ever leaves her father's home- and something about that is just too tempting for a curious young maiden.
