113 EIGHTH AIR WAYS

Susan awoke slowly, luxuriating in the feel of the morning sun on her skin, the gentle breeze in her hair, the unexpected warmth of the bracken pile, the-

-the complete lack of weight. Her eyes snapped open. She was alone in the clearing.

Scrambling to her feet, Susan looked around. The campfire had burned down, but there was still enough heat coming from the ashes that she felt sure it hadn't been long. The rest of the clearing was as she had left it, except that the knife she had left on the stump was gone.

As was Makalaurë.

For a heartbeat, Susan considered searching for him. After all, he was fairly seriously injured - he couldn't have gotten far. And for anyone else, she would have done exactly that.