Page 112 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

Premonition.

He meets my eyes.

“She’s there. I just have to find her.”

48

BEA

My skin crawls as the sun begins to set, and as darkness spreads through the glen, so does my dread. I try not to think about them. The souls that cried out to me last night, begging for my help, but even so, my eyes keep flicking towards the After.

The darkness pouring from it pulses, inhaling and exhaling as if the shadows are alive, and I shiver.

I grab another piece of wood and throw it on the fire, kicking myself for not asking Theo to collect more for me while he was here. The stack has dwindled since Brennen left, and there's nothing to gather within the length of my chain. Soon, it will run out completely.

The thought of being trapped in the dark with the ghosts of the After makes my lungs constrict, and I crawl inside the tent and close the flaps. I do not want to know if the ghosts come again tonight. Not when there's nothing I can do to help them.

I close my eyes and try to sleep, but my body is too alert. The ground shudders, groaning as if the earth might crack open and swallow me whole, and I stiffen. Fear wraps around my heart so tight I worry it might stop beating altogether.

Even without hearing their cries yet, I know they’re coming. I feel their presence. Restless souls wandering the mouth of the After. But why? I squeeze my eyes shut, counting the beats of my heart, trying to think of anything other than the figures lurking outside my tent.

A soft noise floats through the night. Someone humming, and my hair stands on end. I know that melody.

It's the one from my visions. The humming turns to singing, but it's not a beautiful sound. The voice is cracked and pained.

There's friendship in bushels and tales long been said.

Let's tell each other's before we fall dead.

Can happen in moments, the blink of an eye

The river will take you when it’s time to die.

On shaking legs, I rise, holding my breath as I peek out of the tent. It's the song the tailor’s daughter was singing, and through my fear, I wonder why I didn't notice the part about the river before.

A song cannae tell you the time it will end.

As long as you live, a new one can begin.

She knows whose coming, she’s waited all night.

Held off on the last verse until you arrived.

Dark shapes drift through the After. Some crawling. Some standing. It’s horrifying, these figures who are somehow both human and not. They wander aimlessly, all except for one.

She stands in the middle of the river, closer than she was last night.

So sing till the song takes the life it was due,

Some hands hold the blade, and some hands hold the truth.

When the river runs red and the After draws near,

The darkness will come and bring all that you fear.

I move out of the tent, unable to stop myself. Needing to confirm what I already know in my gut. That this is the tailor's daughter. The woman I warned to run. I recognize her voice now, even though I can’t see her, still shrouded by shadows.

I feel her eyes on my face as she holds out a grey hand and tilts her head. Her voice changes suddenly, the tone dropping.