The net had gone tripping and bumbling over stumpy mounds and chalk-resistant grasses, finally coming to rest in a ring of pale mushrooms.

 

Mac Eden kept her eyes fixed on the horizon. She’d avoided looking directly at the despicable thing since she’d netted it.

 

There were only so many times you could kill the people you loved before something in you snapped.

​

WE CALL THEM THE MANDOLIN

BUT IT'S NOT THEIR NAME

​​​

​​​​

​

​

read more