The miles disappeared before them, Odeile leading the way, Vamira next, and Oliver trudging behind. He tried his best to catch up, but it was no good. His legs were trembling under him, stiff and weary. His stomach filled the air with a concert of grumbles, and his eyes kept fluttering closed, as though someone kept yanking a shade down in front of him.
The sun was trickling down behind the hills still marching on around them. Oliver had expected a rest and a meal hours ago, but Odeile seemed to still have no intention of stopping. Vamira, her dress dirty and torn but her face determined, was following after the tall woman without complaint.
Seeing that, Oliver had little choice but to swallow his growing discomfort and force himself to keep going, one foot in front of the other. He would not be the first to ask for a rest, much as he wanted to.