Morningside Cuesta ouska

They made camp above the Bypass, their travel impeded by heavy rain the day after Glaukos had thrown his command down. Anselm eyed the sodden slopes warily, about to announce it may be time for them to move when he saw an all too familiar silhouette.

The guilt he'd managed to repress rose like bile to his mouth. Heda.

She was leaner than when they'd left. A heron hung limp from her jaws; a thin catch for a thinner creature. Anselm wondered if she'd missed him -- or Etienne -- at all these last few hard days, or if she knew of what her guard dog had done. Any warmth he had for her was withered by that memory -- he did not hide himself as she came into view, but he did not offer soft song for her either.