None too soon. The tiny hooks of the cloaks not only held clothing tight—and those wearing it—but soon produced a burning rash on any bare skin left in contact. My people endured without complaint, outwardly calm and determined. They wearied, as did I, huddled together; a few tried to sleep. The area appeared barren, other than the turf, but every so often great flocks came into view, their shadows flickering across the ground. They were made up of thousands of small birds—or their equivalent—wheeling and spinning, forming tight balls then rivers through the air. To our disappointment, the beautiful flocks didn’t linger, busy heading north. If we were in that hemisphere, pleasing thought, this could be spring. If we weren’t? Morgan had shrugged. So when another shadow crossed our path, I didn’t pay attention until I saw the Om’ray rising to their feet, staring up. Doing the same, I glimpsed a dot, higher than the birds, heading east.
