Or so she had imagined.

She shut her eyes for a moment, permitting the tears to flow uninhibited now.

“What am I going to do?” she murmured, barely a sound.

The breeze offered no reply.

The world offered no reply.

No one did.

Until—

Footsteps.

Steady. Rhythmic. Out of place in the stillness.

At first, she failed to notice. Her spirit was too engulfed by dread, by exhaustion, by the crushing weight of doubt tightening around her chest.

But then the pacing slowed.