She wanted to say more, but she was too weak, too hurt; she had suffered too much. Her eyes rolled back and she tilted. He caught her before she could hit the ground.

Barely clinging to consciousness, she felt him lift her. His arms seemed nearly the size of her entire body, and his chest was warm. He carried her down a rocky path, heading into a canyon that cracked the escarpment. Though wide and burly, he was sure-footed, easily hopping from one mossy stone to another. Finally they reached the canyon floor. The walls rose at their sides, green with vines and moss. Trees grew upon the canyon ledges above, barely clinging on. Caves gaped open in the walls, leading to shadows.

"My father knows the art of healing," Jeid said as he walked. "The old man's out collecting herbs. I'll do what I can for your wounds until he gets back." When they reached a cave's entrance, he placed her down gently. "You'll have to crawl in. Can you do that?"

She smiled wanly. "I made my way halfway across the world to here. I can crawl."

She climbed up a pile of stones—they creaked beneath her—and wriggled into the cave. It was dark and a tight fit. She wondered how Jeid, twice her size, would enter. After crawling down a tunnel, she emerged into a wide chamber and gasped.

This was no mere cave.

It's a home, she thought, her eyes dampening. It's the most beautiful home I've ever seen.

Murals covered the craggy walls, depicting bison, deer, and dragons flying under the stars. Fur rugs covered the floor, strings of beads curtained passageways into other chambers, and clay pottery stood on a flat boulder. A tin brazier crackled with embers, its smoke rising to waft out a hole in the ceiling.

"It's not much," Jeid said, "but it's—"

"Home," she whispered.

She wobbled and nearly fell again, her weariness catching up with her. She sat upon a bearskin rug and hugged her knees.

Jeid—himself much like a bear—rummaged around, pulled herbs from pouches, and tossed them into a pot with water. A sweet scent filled the cave, a scent of spring, bringing vigor to Laira.

"It smells nice," she whispered. "Nicer than I do."

He muttered something under his breath, looking uncomfortable. He brought her a bowl of the steaming water. "Drink."

She held the bowl, blew upon it until it was cool, and drank. The tea flowed down her throat, sweet and healing, filling her with warmth. Jeid clattered about and returned with bowls of mushrooms, nuts, and wild berries. Laira's stomach felt so weak. She could only nibble on a mushroom, feeling too sick for more.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I traveled for so long. For so many years, I didn't know if others were real. I . . . I lived in a kingdom, and then a tribe, and . . . " Her eyes stung and her tongue stumbled over the words.