Her eyelashes are heavy by restless nights. The backpack strains her shoulders as she nears the destination.
She walks faster now, knowing the path towards the forest trees with giant roots climbing out of boulders. The shadows are draping every crevice. This is the barrenness of harvest or pestilence. She almost lost her bearings.
You can't stop now (voice in her head).
She steps into the clearing of stones. (Only the wind hears his whispers). Taking out a black case from her bag, she reaches for the knife. His knife, bold & black, pressing familiar on her palm.
There is no hesitation - she plunges the knife & breaks the case. Small bones and dust caved into tunnel beneath. The ancient trees will bury the remnants of her broken promises - finally.
After a long exhale, she retreats, growing smaller as a candle light.