Dru sat her pony up on the old highroad and watched the odd maiden wander through a cow pasture. The girl was on a cattle track that meandered along a quiet stretch of the River Gren. The pasture’s grass was dead and dry, its trees bare and pointing like claws towards a cold slate sky. Against the backdrop, Dru thought, the maiden’s flame-colored hair stood out like a wedding dress in a leper colony. Even more striking was the girl’s sky-blue cape, which billowed out behind her when she hiked up her skirts and ran a little way into the cold breeze. She spun around once, twice, as if she were dancing at a fancy ball, and then caught sight of Dru and stopped.
Dru gave a big, friendly wave. The maiden stared up for a bit, then gave a tiny wave. Dru swung off her pony and waved again, beckoni
