She stepped away from the door and the wind immediately blew it open. The locking mechanism had long since been destroyed. Grunting, Catskill grabbed a half-rotten board and shoved it under the crossbeam to hold it shut. She walked into the center of the room and sprawled on the millstone, her legs numb. This wasn’t different from any other time she’d waited out a blizzard in Mystic, right? Why did it feel this empty?