Trace

It didn't happen all at once. It started with a scent-woodsy and sweet-pulling her toward fragments of memory still tangled in sleep. In pulse, in detail, the vision came: a presence made of earthquakes and indigo, woven into thunder and warmth. She clung to the memory like it might anchor her through the chasm of time. Somewhere, in a world just beyond waking, pieces of her were still reaching back.