Here there were a few trees, growing in the cove, and here, she knew, there was a small spring of clear water.

Many a time she had made a cup of her hands and drunk here.
Now she made out the fire clearly, the trees throwing out great spokes of shadow on all sides, spokes of shadows that wavered and shook with the flare of the small fire beyond them.

She dropped to her hands and knees and, parting the dense underbrush, began the last stealthy approach..