her scent, her warmth. I’ll come back, Mother, I promise. The road to the village of Río Seco was long and dusty. Naya walked for hours under the relentless sun.
Her feet, accustomed to the soft furs covering the floor of her tent, now felt every stone, every thorn on the path. But she didn’t complain. This was her choice, her test. When she finally continue reading …
