EPILOGUEOur horses waited in the dooryard, laden with riders, supplies, belongings, and even a cage full of chickens. Elaysius, feeling well enough to sing, if not fly, rode in a sort of palanquin behind Genevieve on her mount, and Bessie the milk-cow was tied to one of the calmer pack-horses. Even Firefoot had wandered home as we packed, almost before I had time to worry about him.
We had put out every fire, closed every window. Even with so much packed for travel, so many things remained—pots, tapestries, bedclothes, furniture. I packed the pitcher with Genevieve’s portraits very carefully amongst my things, and told myself I could return for whatever I chose to desire, later. But I knew there would never be a reason to come back.
Save one.
I held Braith’s hand as we mounted the hill
