She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. She let them fall and sped to the companion, where she stood for a moment, the moonlight giving her a celestial touch. He even thought he could detect the voice of Jonathan, urging and directing them. What was the name on those marriage lines you showed me?’ ‘M—Melusine,’ stammered the woman, her countenance yet registering shock.
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