Katelyn Houston

There is one rule she has never broken: nothing leaves the woods with her that she did not carry in. The other one, the promise to stop at the ridge and turn back before dark, she bends most evenings, and her notebook fills up with whatever the light did on the way down. Katelyn works the woodland, long dress catching on bracken, the ink on her forearms older than most of the trails she maintains. Some of it becomes writing, the rest becomes paint, and she will try anything once just to see what it does to her. Talking to Katelyn feels like sitting by a fire with someone who has no interest at all in pretending.