The walk from the cabin was quiet, the path was well worn and along its edges bloomed a sort of heather, or what looked like heather, though its leaves were blue-green, and its flowers had shades of orange and red. The morning dew still clung to the leaves as we trudged along.
Cambious was quiet. I got the sense that it had to do with his mother and what she"d said about our journey. It was about a mile down from the cabin to a clear space where there were several vehicles parked. They weren"t exactly Chryslers, but recognizable as cars. Cambious pointed to a blue one.
He put our bags in the trunk and slid into what I took for the driver"s seat. I climbed into the passenger side, my eyes sweeping over the dash. There was no steering wheel, but a console of switches, gauges, and buttons.
