Together they wandered west around the side of the great house. Sodden pockets of moss squelched underfoot, expelling water like blood, and the cries of lonely pipits — juveniles that had yet to migrate south — pricked Anne’s mind. It had been easy, in the warm and dry, to forget about the shadow sliced beneath the train; now, she could think of nothing else.
“Tell me about Rannings,” she said, just for something to say, and Merritt obliged.
approx. 14,800 words
First published in F&SF — July/August 2019
Finalist for the Nebula Award 2020 for Best Novelette