Lina sat. She hadn’t realized she was crying.
“Sit,” she said. “You’re carrying a piece of the earth’s heart. It’s heavy.” garnet
“Home where?” Lina whispered.
She was sitting on a stone outcrop, wrapped in wool so patched it looked like a quilt. Her face was a map of wrinkles, and around her neck hung a necklace of raw garnets—not polished, just drilled and strung on leather. She was stirring a pot of nothing over a dead fire. Lina sat
Lina sat with that for a long time. The stars came out. The Collector’s men lit a distant campfire below. garnet