“Come, come,” it called. It was dry like the scurry of rats running over dead leaves. It crackled like the flames that devour the kindling twigs. It was filled with power like the wildfire that runs across the summer-dry plains.She had fought it so long. She had hidden from it. Now, there seemed no more reason to fight against it.She picked her way down the narrow sea-cliff path, a rock and dirt trail irregularly stepped with stones. The storm blinded her with wind-driven rain. The rocks were wet and slippery. The air was cold and numbed her fingers. But there was no room in her for fear.It was so much easier to go where she was led, not to question, not to fight. Though she stumbled in the soft sand, she rose and went on. Waves washed against her and retreated, eating the sand from under her feet. She did not even notice when her hand unclenched itself and let the two ringstones fall into the sea.A boat bobbed nearby, moored to a rock. The water was deeper there. Andiene caught at the rope to hold herself up, as a wave broke over her head.
