Nic didn’t move. Didn’t twitch.
The Bagni Bianchi were often abandoned, as far as this place was from Amiata, and everywhere else. And it had seemed so today, its big, hot pools empty. But somehow she’d missed another presence. It was unlike her, and sloppy.
And presence was the right word. Stark white, like bones or some phantom, with long, pale hair hanging down his body in wet tendrils. His face was the quietly observant expression of a winter wolf peering from among the...Read More