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Gideon led Harrow along the dirt path that ran through the old cemetery.
The gravestones themselves might have been dying, some were broken, others worn by the rain, nearly all illegible. They’d been adorned, over the decades, with lichen and moss, brown and green and damn near blue. More vibrant were the trees lining that walkway, colored like blood and amber.
(Harrow did not flinch at the sudden screech of a crow or shy away from peering curiously at the remnants of inscriptions on the dead’s stones. She couldn’t explain why the iron fence that lined the cemetery struck the wariness within her that it did.)
“You of all people, spending time in a graveyard…” Harrow murmured. “You don’t think it’s, oh, what would you call it…? ‘A mega bummer’, something like that.”
Gideon laughed. (Fuck, thought Harrow.) “What? It’s quiet most of the time, a good place to hang out when I need to get away and all that.”
Harrow blinked. “I see.” Obviously there was more to Gideon than the facade the girl put on, but to catch a glimpse for herself — to find the Gideon that was contemplative, subdued, even a tiny bit mature…
“Yeah. Gideon’s little place. I call it the G-Spot for short.”
Harrow closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose, before giving Gideon a sharp elbow to the ribs.