They say the gods arrive and go in a mist.
Don't go." They moved on in silence, the horse stepping confidently into the crowding fog.

Once Hamil stumbled over a root and Shiela's hand slipped around his neck, tightening a moment.

He straightened up; but her hand slid back to his coat sleeve, resting so lightly that he could scarce feel the touch.
Then the horse stumbled, this time over the tongue of the camp wagon.
Little Tiger was right; the horse had brought them back.
Hamil turned; Shiela swung one leg across the pommel and slipped from her saddle into his arms.
"Have you been happy, Shiela ?" "You know I have....

But--you must release me." "Perfectly happy ?" "Ah, yes.

Don't you know I have ?" ...