MEGHAN
It was late afternoon when Gran and I finally crossed the border of Landgrove, a beautiful small town in Vermont. It had taken a lot of driving to get there, but it had hardly been an unpleasant drive.
Vermont was a beautiful land, full of woods and mountains and rivers, and since it was fall, the trees were painted in the most beautiful, vibrant shades of orange and red. The weather outside was chilly, but those colors warmed up the place pretty well. Grandma had told me we were going there during the drive: she had some relatives in the state, who had referred us to another, safer pack - the Opal Lake.
“So, this is the place?” I asked.
“Indeed it is.” Grandma smiled. “Beautiful, huh?”
I nodded, stretching in my seat. After all those hours sitting down, I was getting really,
