Yet, as the wagon followed the trail of refugees to the right, and came eventually to a stop on a wide, grassy lea, it seemed to Deborah that the others were completely oblivious to the eerie beauty which surrounded them. She wanted to ask Theuli or Malina why they took no notice but assumed that they were perhaps too tired to care, and too busy getting the children settled for the night; and perhaps, she surmised, they were used to such sights, being from this world, and naturally took little notice of them. Finally, tired and sleepy herself, she followed the others’ example, wrapped herself in her blankets, and slept.
She awoke feeling the presence of someone or something nearby watching her. Opening her eyes, glancing at the rail of the wagon, she gasped in fear, finding herself looking into the most disturbing eyes she had ever seen, that stared solemnly into her own. There was something timeless, ancient, expectant and watchful about those eyes, something that, in its way, was of the lake and the forest in nature, its Human appearance a façade for the cold, still waters, bare brambles, and submerged, gnarled, clutching roots that were its true nature. Abruptly, the eyes were gone as the figure let itself drop to the ground.