Gilroy neighed for the fortieth time.
Amy was counting how many neighs the trusted horse had made as he galloped through the terrain. It was the only thing she could do to distract herself from her own thoughts.
The Northern Gate.
Magus Oraculi.
The Seventh.
The words rang repeatedly over her head. No matter what she did. The questions intruded her thoughts.
It felt like sunshine and rain and the first drops of snow.
She shook her head, trying to clear her foggy brain. The kiss she shared with Gideon-well, forced upon seemed more appropriate-replayed like a broken DVD before her eyes.
Damn, when did I even become aggressive? she thought as she thanked heavens for the first time that she was not in New York City or she would have been listed in some kind of register as an off
