Lion Head Mesa Wet Hands

May the rock beneath your dear children's feet always be steady, Eira murmured, dipping her head respectfully, though her jaw tightened a touch as she turned away. Thank you kindly for your time, she added, her voice smooth, though there lingered an unmistakable undercurrent of frustration. The words were polite, but the mountain woman could not help but feel that her time had been squandered. It was of no matter. She would find her own rope and return to camp before dark.

Her steps quickened, the urgency of the task ahead pulling her forward, her thoughts tumbling over all that still lay before her like a swiftly moving brook. But just as she reached a little way off, she paused, glancing back over her shoulder. With a voice touched by both warning and care, she called, He was last seen with a child, though I am quite certain it was not his own. You might want to keep a watchful eye on yours, darlin'. Partially untrue, but the stranger did not need to know that.

Without another word, she disappeared into the dunes.