It was trying to tell her something. She remembered reaching for it and falling through the mirror.

Miriam glanced around. Her shoes were at the end of the bed. Her captors sat between her and her shoes. Ichabod was saying something, but Miriam no longer listened to him. She looked at him as though she were. She kept her eyes on his moving lips, but her mind was on the soft blue light she could just about see out of the corner of her vision.

As slowly and naturally as she could, she caught the corner of the pillow so tight her knuckles went white. She used her body to block it from their sights.

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"We have to be going," Ichabod announced. "We can't stick around here. Come one. Try getting up."

Wordlessly, Miriam stood up. She took the pillow with her. Before he fully stood up, she threw the pillow at him. She ran. He lost his balance and fell back onto the bed. A noise, but she didn't look back. A hand nearly caught her, but she had ducked to grab the stone. Nearly!

"NO!" yelled Ichabod.

Arms came around her waist. She was falling. They both were falling. It was too late to stop their momentum. They touched the mirror. Miriam closed her eyes.

They kept falling. She landed on sand, itchy, grainy and soft. Mousy hair was in her face, and not just her own.

Her reflection had come with her.