It was dark. Leaves and twigs rattled over the ground. Elsie shivered. Her feet were bare, and the cold stones beneath were sharp. She should go forward. She didn’t want to.
‘Come on, Elsie,’ said a voice, deep and comforting. Elsie looked round but saw only the elm branches waving in the wind. ‘Come to bed, Elsie. Come to rest.’
‘I don’t want to,’ Elsie whispered. ‘I want to stay.’
The wind blew and the leaves swirled all round her, slapping her face and her hands. She covered her face with her arms and crouched down.