Dru woke to the sound of the breeze rustling a nearby willow thicket. The moon was up and she judged by the stars that the night was half gone. She moved to a crouch, nearly groaning at the burning ache in all her joints and the stabbing emptiness in her belly.
Something more than the breeze had stirred her. By and by she made out a single set of footfalls, so soft and lonely she didn’t bother to raise an alarm. If it’s an enemy, I’ll fight him myself. If I die…so what. I’m tired enough to wish I were dead.
If it’s an enemy, I’ll fight him myself. If I die…so what. I’m tired enough to wish I were dead.She rose, drew her sword, and moved back the way her company had fled from the battle. A few heartbeats passed and she nearly ran over a small, dark form on the trail.
“Chekwe?” she whispe
