Seraphine’s Pov
My feet felt like they belonged to someone else. Every step stung, bones, joints, the raw places beneath the skin. Days of walking had scraped the map from my patience. I wondered, more than once, if I had been foolish to set off alone. Perhaps I should have taken company. Perhaps I should have stayed.
But the road had a way of answering questions by walking them out. I had chosen this path. I would follow it to whatever end it held.
By the time night folded itself over the world I was near breaking. The last of my water sloshed in an almost-empty skin at my hip. My pack hung like a lead weight on my shoulders. The wind had teeth now, cold and fine, and the birds had settled into their night-singers.
I found a tree, huge and knotted, its roots like the ribs of the eart
