An odd sense of déjà vu enveloped Marcus. He walked, aimless amongst the ancient cedar trees. His nose the only guide until he came to a familiar stream. Across the babbling creek he watched a young girl crouched over a snow berry bush picking at the winter fruit. The scene was as it had been two days ago.
Camouflaged by trees, Marcus watched, fascinated.
A strand of her waist-long hair caught on the bush, and she pushed the cord of white blonde over her shoulder. Delicate fingers claimed berries between leaves and thorns. Crystal blue eyes remained intent on the search for more fruit. She wore the same light blue bodice and cream dress when he’d laid her down and promised vengeance.
This could not be. He’d killed her. He’d felt her die. Yet there she stood, plain as day as if he’d never drained her of life.
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