CHAPTER TEN
Emmeline wanted to put as much distance between herself and the Golden Child as possible. She stomped through the wheat field rumbling about conceited gods and their fickle ways. The wheat soon gave way to pasture, and her mood calmed. If she had spared a glance back, she would have seen the shimmering golden wheat evaporate into nothing.
Emmeline stepped up her pace in the low fescue of the pasture as her mind returned to the dire circumstances which had led her to embark on this fateful journey. She walked, lost in thought, not even aware when the pasture gave way to low foothills dotted with sporadic young pines and the occasional oak and hickory. As the foothills steepened, Emmeline might have pondered–were she not so otherwise occupied with other thoughts–why she was cli
