Well, crap... that's another unexpected romantic subplot intruding on my story. This is NOT going to plan.
“Get away!” Raisa shouted. “Don’t touch me!”
Aunt Maeve once spoke of the dangerous nature of separating spirit from body. With the spirit free of its physical cage, a sleeper was able to wander and view the world, but the body was left exposed. Exposed to what, she never said, but she was clear that the link between spirit and body was a thin tether. If a soul was wounded outside its body, or if a body suffered trauma without its soul, the two could be separated permanently.
Everything around Raisa felt real enough, though. Which meant her body had somehow caught up to her spirit. An uncomfortable thought, and yet, a relief.
Nearby, two women lifted a corpse from the ground while the man in the straw hat held the horse steady. The corpse was stained with blood, all down its front. A man with white hair, who apparently didn’t die of old age.
“There’s another body over here,” a voice shouted. As the field workers lifted the second corpse onto the wagon, one of the women broke from the pack, coming closer.
Something wasn’t right. Something worse than waking up in a field, with peasants uncovering bodies.
Well, crap... that's another unexpected romantic subplot intruding on my story. This is NOT going to plan.