August's eyes were wide, mouth agape, heart hammering in her chest. She had just imagined that, right? Crows don't talk.
'Do you remember whose it is?' the same voice asked in her head. The crow was still staring at her intently.
"Crows don't talk," she said aloud, either reassuring herself of that fact or reminding the crow, she wasn't sure.
Maybe if it were talking, she could convince it to stop, because this was not okay. It was not okay to hear voices. What had happened to her in those woods?
'Will you not put it on?' the bird's black, iridescent head dipped as if gesturing to the shiny chain in her hand before its blue eye landed back on her.
"What?" she asked, frowning at the bird that hadn't moved. "You want me to put it on?"
