Ahh, the last Six Sunday post of The Clockwork Coloratura before NaNoWriMo begins!
Speaking of, I still have no idea what I’m even doing for NaNo, but hey, what the hell. I make no secret of the fact I am a pantser when it comes to writing, hah. (See: The Clockwork Coloratura itself, aka The Accidental Novel.)
But before NaNo (whatever it may be for me) begins, let’s take a last look back at Anna, as Peregrine still attempts to hunt her down.
On some level, she was aware that she was cold.
There had been chills before, of course, with the fever, the wild fluctuations between sweating and shaking; but they had been relatively short-lived, as fever-fluctuations tended to be.
This was a different breed of thing.
This was cold, a steady, constant, creeping thing, like chill coming up to greet you through the ground if you were unlucky enough to be left sleeping exposed on stone. It surrounded her, and it did not abate, only grew stronger as more of it began to amass.
At first, she wondered if this meant that she was finally dead.