She’d finally gone inside.

Jhela had not shown up.

Miri couldn’t bear it any longer. It was physically painful for her heart to beat, no doubt because of all the flying she’d done yesterday but certainly not helped any by the emotional agony she was going through. Her fire had died out early in the morning and to alleviate her waning hope and the painful jumps her heart made whenever a new shape bobbed into view, Miri went inside to get more wood. She did not hurry, did not acknowledge anyone or go out of her way to avoid others. She walked, one hand trailing along the wall beside her for support.

Once upon a time her hand would be supported by the furred head of her soul-sister, but it seemed that the end of that tale had arrived. Miri would keep watch until the flood subsided, and Miri would scour the land for her soul-sister’s body once the water had retreated far enough for her to. Miri would not give up. So inwardly focused was she that the auburn haired woman didn’t realize her path was in conflict with that of another’s.

Her shoulder clipped against Joanna and startled her out of her daze, although her response was sluggish at best as she turned to regard the woman with dead green eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry,” she apologized listlessly, unable to conjure up any sort of useful emotion. She needed to go get firewood. She had to restart her fire. There was nothing else that mattered more than restarting that fire. If Miri focused on little tasks, she could keep going. She was exhausted in every way, but she had to keep going. Miri did not want to wake up alone.