The Road

The road to Alanafel stretched ahead of her, cutting through rolling low hills covered by new wildgrass and flowers. The grey sky relinquished cool breezes. It looked like it might rain. Both her good wool cloak and her plain grey dress were solid, fit for travel. A pack containing food, supplies, bedroll and clothes was strapped to her back, and an old rake handle served as a walking stick. Until today, she had never traveled farther from home than Ventin, where father had sold their produce and wool. She may be mad, but she wanted to know who killed father.