Chapter 24: Seraphine and the Language of Goodbye

The rider, if it was a rider, did not come closer.

I waited another quarter of an hour with my journal closed in my lap and the Shard warm against my ribs, and then I decided the sound had been wind moving strangely through the ash formations to the north — the kind of sound this landscape would make, I thought, out of pure geological habit, with no malice intended. I went back to the camp and lay down and did not sleep, which was also becoming a habit.

By first light, Seraphine was already awake.