At the foot of the bridge, patches of tall weeds stood at attention like troops protecting a classified site. Water dripped from the rough surface of the arch. Eddies licked the walls.
“Spoo-o-oky.” Luke hurled a stone into the stream. A gulping sound accompanied the splash. Tiny birds raced through the brush on the opposite bank.
“Don’t do that,” Valya said. “The inhabitants of the bridge sleep during daylight. Be very, very quiet.”
SOUL OF THE UNBORN ON AMAZON