The dogs roused and started barking when they were coming up the drive, and by the time they reached the house Tay and Emily were on the porch, coming down the steps to greet them. Walks-With-Spirits dismounted and spoke with them briefly while Cotannah was removing her numb body from Pretty Feather’s back, and then, without a word to her, he was gone. She stood leaning against her horse, watching as he led his mount through the spotty moonlight toward the barn lot, handed the reins to the sleepy stableboy who met him halfway, and walked on until he vanished into the dark. Like a shadow. He was gone from her. Her whole body felt hollow, light enough to blow away on the slightest breeze, yet it was too heavy for her to move even one foot or one hand. The whole night was empty, now, even if the sky held the moon and stars and high, scudding clouds, even if the air smelled of cedar and dew and mint from the garden. The whole world was empty, now. “’Tannah?” She jerked upright and looked around at the sound of her name.
