Malina left Ralph’s embrace with reluctance, gazed long into his eyes, looking for more than simple assurance. At last they parted, and she began making her way through the virgin snow towards the forest, alone. She glanced back once at the irregular line of refugees who waited for her with uncertainty and trepidation, took a deep breath, and tried to garner her courage.
She was afraid now, if only because she found herself in the unnatural position of having others depend on her. But there was something else. Her instincts were reacting to something, though what, specifically, she could not be certain.
Nearing the massive evergreens with mounting dread, she was certain now . . . something was here. The trees towered over her like black monoliths, and she had to resist the urge to duck her head.
There! At the base of the trees, just inside the forest, she saw, or thought she saw, a figure standing in the shadows. Yes, she was sure now. The shadow moved. There were others standing behind it. But what-?
‘Come no further.’
Stopping dead in her tracks, she tried probing into the darkness with her truncated Pixie senses. A figure detached itself from the darkness; a figure she recognised.
‘Imalwain?’