The young girl intrigued her the most. Though the hint of a smile shone on her lips, she seemed pained by the act of drawing, as though it was more of an obligation than an enjoyable hobby. The longer she sketched, the closer she brought her face to the paper, intently driven to get the details right. On a whim, Evelyn rose from her seat and joined the others around the girl. Liam was watching her, as well, but the old woman seemed disinterested, like she’d seen the girl do this before.

The sketch itself was beautifully detailed. The girl had an amazing knack for making perfect marks, only once having to go back and erase a line she hadn’t intended to make. She was drawing a large stone archway, settled into the base of a mountain that stretched up and out of the range of her paper. The arch was uniquely laid, with each stone alternating between light granite and a dark, almost volcanic rock.

“Why are you drawing a tunnel, sweetie?” Evelyn asked, but the girl was lost in her work and did not respond.

Liam turned to the old woman. “Has she ever been on this route before?”

“I don’t think so,” she answered. “I’ve never been and she’s been in my care since she was a baby.”

“That looks a lot like the mouth of the Abrams Tunnel,” Liam said, leaning towards the window to look down the track. “It’s a little ways ahead, maybe an hour or so… You’re sure she’s never seen it?”

The old woman laughed. “Oh, Lullin’, I can’t be sure of anythin’, can I?”

The girl added the finishing touches to her artwork and opened her bag to stow the materials back inside. There she had a pocket with twelve other pencils, all lined up in as neat a row as one could make. Carefully, the girl counted down the line of writing instruments, mouthing the number silently as she went along until she reached the spot where her twelfth one should sit. “Twelve,” she said, sliding both pencils she had taken out earlier carefully next to the others. “Not thirteen, no, thirteen is bad. Fourteen!”