Haunted Wood Hand in Hand

He asked about why she was tense. So much could go wrong, yet so little could be done. She just had to hope the repulsiveness of the Nightwalkers would deter anyone from her presence.

"We are alike then," she mused. They had to have something in common to have the same pursuits in life. She kept him to her side. Walking behind would be too suspicious. She moved to walk her patrol route, the ground well worn and soggy underfoot.
"Where about do you come from?" She came from the heart of Mexico, but she only knew it as the southern lands, where if one looked hard enough on a clear day from the top of the Diablo Peak, one would see the glisten of the ocean from where her father was raised.

"Because where I come from," she continued after her question, "there are some who wish to kill me. And they would hunt me this far to get me." And Vanity had run out of land to run on. She knew where the ocean was, where she had to run to and take that plunge after stowing away her young somewhere where they would not be found. She just prayed that Hashut had genes that ran deeper and stronger than hers to cover the faces of her offspring.

She glanced to him, wondering what reaction she'd spot flicking across his face.