COATE STONE CIRCLE, APRIL 1st, 1872
A small carriage is wobbling down the path that evening. The woman driving it has a serious expression on her face, as if she is about to make a choice she can’t escape.
There is something odd about her travelling this late. She is a woman. Alone. She is driving the carriage on her own. But if one looked closely enough, they would find something strange about the doors of the carriage. They aren’t just shut. There are wooden planks nailed across them, as if trying to prevent someone from getting in. Or out.
The carriage stops at the edge of a forest, not far from the vast fields of a village called Coate. The woman jumps off, her narrowed eyes scanning the surroundings. She is especially cautious as her eyes roam through the woods, as if she is expect
