Ladyhawke
“He had walked all night, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and the haunted clearing. His face stung with scratches, his clothes were full of leaves and dirt from falls in the darkness; but it was a small price to pay to be free of Navarre. He began to climb toward the sunlit crest of another long slope; stopped, sniffing the air with sudden interest. He smiled. Somewhere over the hill, someone was cooking breakfast. He licked his lips, and went on climbing.
Meanwhile..., miles behind him, Navarre entered the campsite with the sunrise, his own face lined with fatigue. He strode directly to the tree where he had left Phillipe. One look at the empty limb, the empty ropes lying on the ground below it, told him everything. His mouth thinned. She had set the boy free. Of course she would. She hadn’t realized . . . he should have left her a note, should have warned her somehow. He struck the tree trunk with his fist, furious at his own stupidity and helplessness.MoreLess
Meanwhile..., miles behind him, Navarre entered the campsite with the sunrise, his own face lined with fatigue. He strode directly to the tree where he had left Phillipe. One look at the empty limb, the empty ropes lying on the ground below it, told him everything. His mouth thinned. She had set the boy free. Of course she would. She hadn’t realized . . . he should have left her a note, should have warned her somehow. He struck the tree trunk with his fist, furious at his own stupidity and helplessness.MoreLess
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