The rain fell, cold and dreary. Cora trudged along, boots squelching obscenely in the mud each time she lifted her foot, scowl firmly in place.
Against all odds, the light from the moon above reached the forest floor, coloring the underbrush a dull silver. It cast menacing shadows, but Cora was unafraid.
It had been a very, very long time since she’d had any reason to really, truly be.
She had been in the rainfall for three solid days now, the cobblestoned highways of larger cities two days behind her.
Her nose was red and runny, and her hands felt like two hunks of ice; though her heightened immunity prevented more serious ailments, her body was still solidly thrashed by winter.
It wasn’t all for nothing, she reminded herself, if a little bitterly, tugging her tunic sleeve firmly down out of habit.
She had inquired about a redheaded witch a town back, and had been pointed firmly south.
Having a proper direction had been a much needed pick-me-up after days of unknowing shrugs and apologies,
and it hadn’t taken long for Cora to stumble upon Lydia’s unique scent: honeysuckle and firestone and something else familiar, but nameless.
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