Little Goat Mountain Was it love or fear of the cold that led us through the night?

He had traveled with others for long enough and now found comfort in solitude. It was not to last however, as a dark shape materialized from the darkness of a nearby copse of trees, nearly running him down; at first Glaukos thought it was the foolish girl, Mercedes, but no - he did not recognize anything about this woman.

Her voice was lilting between raindrops; her accent was one he could not place. With a huff the man shook the extraneous rain from his coat and suitably sprayed the surroundings in the process. It did little to remedy how soggy he was, and left him looking more ragged and unkempt.

The woman smelled of forest. Glaukos wondered - You live below? The woods down there, he motioned with his chin down the side of the cliff, to where the tops of trees protruded from rainy mist.