Deepwood Weald to wield old partisans in hands as old

There was too much activity on the coast. The scents were enticing and overwhelming, but unable to force herself to seek their company, Sif had walked on.

She was desperate, now, to find a cave or hollow or crooked root to hole up in, so that she would not have to feel the breeze on her back and know that she was vulnerable. She was tired of looking over her shoulder so often after having someone to watch her back for so long. She just wanted to sleep and dream, and pretend that her Lord's body was still curled around her own.

Here in the deep, dark woods, she found a tiny semblance of peace. The earth was cold, but when she'd dug herself a little bed and filled it with leaflitter and mulch, she found that it warmed quickly around her, and that the bedding hugged the curve of her spine in a way that she had sorely missed. Even so, sleep would not find her, and so she simply laid away in the dark, blinking up at the leaf-shuttered night sky.