Her position beneath the great, sprawling tree was too comfortable to surrender so quickly. She'd walked from sunrise to sunset, hardly stopping at all, and now her feet ached.
Her thoughts wandered into comfortable blankness as she watched the pale disc of the moon creep over the distant hills. The past remained in its box, closed and quiet. The future was only possibilities. She sought little from whatever days remained of her life. One goal, really. Just the one.
Her eyes slipped closed as a wide, lazy yawn stretched her jaw. The heavy skull of the wolf-hound sank down against her thigh.
"We should keep walking," she murmured to the dog. He did not answer, save for a sleepy thump of his tail.
She could feel her head lolling off to one side as the night filled with the lullaby of crickets and bullfrogs. The caravan would stop at night. She wouldn't lose them. She promised herself that her pace would be all the quicker in the morning. She could walk faster than those fat, plodding horses with their laden wagons.
Her hand slipped down onto Cormac's shoulders. A soft, cool breeze fluttered the edges of her green hood, and she was gone.
