The branding iron used to do it also seared away any emotion connecting me to the two little people that lived with us as well. With that one thought in my head I made it to the bathroom just in time to lose my lunch. This morning I was in a happy place. I had a loving, very sexual wife, and two children any man would be proud to call his. Now, as I flushed away the evidence of my rebellious stomach, my mind told me I had nothing. My heart held onto a faint glimmer of hope, but that’s only because my heart hid it from the rest of my emotions, occasionally calling for calm while my body went on its own rampage of self doubt, hatred and loathing over what my own eyes had seen. A man who didn’t know me, and therefore had no reason to lie, had told me a story. The look my own wife gave the guy the second before she dashed into their hotel room for the afternoon could do nothing other than confirm it. A piece of me died just then. As the door to that hotel room closed, coldness. If they reached Jol’s Brook on time, the measurements wouldn’t be necessary, but if not, the notebook would help them find their way.A small glinting light on the southwest slope of the nearest mountain caught her attention. She retrieved her spyglass from her sled, then peered through the lens. At this distance, the structure was too small to be visible even with the glass, but Sarette had seen enough watchtowers to recognize the signs. The flashing light wasn’t signal code—the attendants had simply left the main mirror pointing west, where it was now catching the mid-afternoon sun. Satisfied that she wasn’t missing an important message, she returned the spyglass to its leather case, then marked the tower’s position in her notes.She checked the measurements against her compass and map, then turned to face the group. “I think we’ve stayed on the right heading since our last stop. If so, then it’s only another mile to Jol’s Brook. I’m not sure why Gregor isn’t back yet, but I think we.
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