“From somewhere close by she heard the liquid call of a nightingale. A warm breeze rustled the leaves above her head. She could smell the pungent scents of earth and trees. “Oh, great!” she groaned, lifting her head. “Perfect!” She was back in the forest. The only difference from her previous world slips was that there was no feeling of nausea this time. Maybe she was just too plain angry for that. She knelt up, sitting on her heels. She was still clutching the leather-bound book. In a fit of ra...ge, she flung it away. It thudded onto the path, falling open in a flurry of thick ivory-colored pages. “Why can’t I control it?” she shouted. “What’s the use of having this power if I can’t control it?” The canopy of branches deadened her voice. She gave a snarl of frustration. Ahead of her, the forest trail opened up and she could see part of the white bridge. She looked over her shoulder, staring deeper into the forest. Was it worth trying to get back again? She shook her head.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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