There was a shiver in the air, and the first sprinkle of red edged the leaves in the valley, but she noticed neither. She saw only the trees of home: the unbroken canopy of foliage that masked the village from sight, somewhere down below.
They were not expecting her, but she would come. She would come and she would live among them as a stranger; the people she had once called friends, family even. They would hide her without knowing they were doing so, love her without knowing who they loved. And she would be safe and home, at last.