Overgrown weeds covered the back of cemetery. In the deepening gloom, Fiona stumbled over a stump.

Bailey grabbed her arm, pulling her up before she hit the ground. “Are you sure we should go on?”

The baby’s screams filled Fiona’s head. She had to help this child. She plunged forward.

The grave markers in the back of the cemetery were the oldest ones. Some of them were so weathered it was impossible to read the names and dates on them. When they reached the back corner, Celia stopped and pointed to a pile of stones, moss, and snarling weeds.

Fiona knelt. All she could hear was the baby’s cry.

She dug through the weeds and scruff in front of her, ignoring the sting of thorns on her hands. Bailey dug with her, and soon she touched the cool stone of a broken grave marker. They pushed the weeds, dirt and twisted vine away, and letters became legible on the marker.

Fiona scrubbed off the dirt. “Baby MacCuindliss” was carved in uneven letters deep in the stone.

“It’s her baby,” Celia said.

“Are you sure?”

The spirit nodded.

Bailey drew in a deep breath beside her. “What does this mean?”

“This is the Woman in White’s baby.” Fiona dropped to her knees and traced the name on the marker with tender fingers. “Please don’t cry,” she whispered. “I’ll try to find your mother, I promise.”

The baby’s cry faded to a whimper. Celia disappeared. The mist blew away, leaving Fiona and Bailey under a canopy of threatening clouds.