The grade became steeper, and she found she was topping the first shallow hill. The way led down from it and then up again, more steeply than before. The smooth stones became larger and more numerous.
At length she felt she must rest, and sitting on a cold stone, suddenly realized that for all her newfound courage, she had no clear idea where she was trying to go. Beyond vague references to 'people in the hills', Eric's instructions ended here. Through chattering teeth she hugged her shoulders, lowered her head and tried not to cry. ERIC.
Again she rose and looked about her, stamping her feet to try to keep warm. Nothing in sight. Wait. . .what was that? Either her eyes deceived her or there was a pale resonance, little more than a shadow of light, just beyond the hill in front of her. From where she stood the path hooked left to skirt its base before finding a narrow pass between ever larger foothills. But above and to her right came the soft, inviting sheen. Torn between fear and the need for shelter, she moved cautiously a short way into the brush.
The climb was not steep, but try as she might she could not make it noiselessly. More than once she missed her footing, stumbled, and fell through thick leaves with a muted sound like walking through corn. In truth the noise of her falling was not great, and except for a short gasp on one occasion no sound escaped her lips. But in that quiet of night she was sure that it carried.
Finally reaching the hilltop, she looked down on a slight recession, in the center of which lay a small, rounded clearing. A dim lantern was hung on a post at one end, seeming lost and forlorn in the wilderness. All around it there was nothing to be seen except a broad, flat bench on which a man might rest, and no sign that it was anything more than a traveler's light, left to mark a trail, that would go on glowing for years unattended.
Still she took nothing for granted. She approached the clearing and slowly, very slowly left the cover of the trees. She made her way silently to the post and examined it closely. She heard something step through the bushes to her left and her heart was in her throat. She whirled, relaxed and nearly fainted.
The man's face and hands were black.
"Thank God," she managed, swooning still. The man, perhaps fifty, clad in camouflaged cover-suit and jacket, remained at his distance. When she had recovered herself she saw that he regarded her kindly, but made no attempt to help her stand.
"What have we here?" he said in a dry voice, with just a corner of a smile. "Another ebony wanderer? And in the middle of the night. I was just getting ready to leave."
"I guess so." Now that she was no longer moving, the cold pierced her clothes and she shivered once more.