Chapter Content
On the morning of the following day, the sky was overcast, casting a somber, grey hue over everything. The heavy clouds hung low, as if mourning for the dead Gwyneth whose burial Phoebe and the rest of the family would soon head to.
Phoebe was still stuck in bed, looking at the clouds through Yin's eyes. The raven was perched on the sill of the wide-open window.
The Saxon spirit floated closer and waved a hand, removing the bed covers, opening Phoebe up to the cold air which woke her up completely. "Good morning, Phoebe. Are you ready for another funeral?"
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