The wind at the summit had died down, leaving a crisp, crystalline silence that amplified the sound of Finnegan’s boots crunching against the frost-hardened moss. He carried Leela not like a casualty of war, but like a sacred relic returning to its shrine.
Her body was nearly lifeless, a dead weight in his arms, but as they crossed the invisible perimeter of the central clearing, a subtle shift occurred. The lines of pain that had etched themselves into her forehead during the weeks of coma smoothed out. Her breathing, though still shallow, lost its jagged edge. She didn't look pained anymore; she looked like she was finally sleeping without the nightmares.
Finnegan stopped before the two massive, silver-barked ancients. There, suspended between them, was the natural hammock. It had been
