And Soon The Darkness Direct

The woods shifted from golden-hour beauty to an ink-black trap. Ahead, the road ended abruptly at a ravine—there was no bridge. The man had lied.

The sun was a bruised orange, hanging low over the French countryside. Cathy and Jane had been cycling for six hours, their legs burning, the map flapping uselessly against Cathy’s handlebars. And Soon the Darkness

"Excuse me?" Cathy called out. "Is the village of Oiron nearby?" The woods shifted from golden-hour beauty to an