The wind whistled sharply through the rough, jagged edged gaps in the door. The wood was damp, rotten, and the walls of the frail cottage were in shambles.
A slim girl in black crouched in a corner, mumbling to herself, her piercing blue eyes searching the room. She shivered, pulling a threadbare cloth around her. The embroidery was barely visible, images of a family picnic held together by a few threads, threads that had passed through her mother's fingers so many years ago.
"Come back," she whispered, her eyelids drooping with the heaviness of sleep. "Please," She clutched the doll beside her.
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