She stuffed the pouch into an old hollowed gourd that rested beside the fire pit, and then she covered that with a blanket of moss she pulled from trees that surrounded the cottage. The gourd still had the remnants of a thong of leather pulled through the pierced holes on either side. It made a good enough satchel, she supposed, but at least she wouldn't lose any of the seeds she'd collected and put back into the pouch. She thought it strange that any had survived at all left in the damp earth, but she assumed they were so desiccated by the draining that there was nothing left to help them rot. She took a last slow look around the small place she'd called home and turned toward the maw of doorway. Yenic stood there, filling the space, blocking off what little moonlight tried to steal him. "Last time I saw you here, you were a newborn babe," he whispered in a voice so painful to hear she thought she'd not make it into his arms. He held her silently for long moments. She felt his heart thudding against hers, the heat of his embrace making her realize how cold she was.
