We weren’t lost, although I thought we were because deep under the layer of my skin it felt as such. Harry had driven us to somewhere in the back woods of Bitter, almost to the Pennsylvania-Ohio line. The truck bounced and creaked over a dirt road, a gravel road, and then what looked to be a pathway just wide enough for the vehicle, covered in ankle-high grass.
“Don’t panic,” he said. “I know right where we are.”
I believed him. How couldn’t I? “And where is that?”
“Inside the Brothshire Woods. Wilhelm Ravenrock’s cottage is up on the left. It’s a long walk, just so you know. I’ll sit at the end of the cottage’s grassy drive and you go and accomplish your business with him.”
“You can join me, if you’d like,” I offered. “I’m simply going to ask Ravenrock questions about the disappearanc
