She tried to turn back and get away from it, but her feet refused to move, rooted to the spot as though some unseen force had kept her locked in place.
Instead of allowing her to flee, it tugged at her, drawing her closer to the dead animal.
It was the same pull she felt before with the dead rabbit, the same inexorable call as the glowing threads. The taint clinging to the bird lingered thickly in the air now, heavier than before. It carried the stench of death and something unfamiliar, an unholy blend that made her skin prickle.
Logic screamed at her to run. Whatever force was at work here could not possibly mean her any good. Yet even as her instincts urged her to escape, she knew deep down that walking away would mean abandoning the answers she had been desperate to find. And wasn't that the very reason she and Ragnar had spent hours in the library, skimming through texts?
