That’ll be enough time. Surely?

Araminta had been so desperate to get the hell away from Colwyn City, she hadn’t really given any thought to the practical aspect of walking the Silfen paths between worlds. Ambling through mysterious woods dotted with sunny glades was a lovely romantic concept, as well as being a decent finger gesture to Living Dream and Cleric Conservator bastard Ethan. However, a moment’s thought might have made her consider what she was wearing a little more carefully, and she’d definitely have found some tougher boots. There was also the question of food.

None of that registered for the first fifty minutes as she strolled airily down from the small spinney where the path from Francola Wood had emerged. She simply marveled at her own fortune, the way she’d finally managed to turn her predicament around.

Figure out what you want, Laril had told her.

Well, now I’ve started to do just that. I’m taking charge of my life again.

Then the quartet of moons sank behind the horizon. She smiled at their departure, wondering how long it would take before they reappeared again. It had been a fast traverse of the sky, so they must orbit this world several times a day. When she turned to check the opposite horizon, her smile faded at the thick bank of unpleasantly dark clouds that were massing above the lofty hills that made up the valley wall. Ten minutes later the rain reached her, an unrelenting torrent that left her drenched in seconds. Her comfy old fleece was resistant to a mild drizzle, but it was never intended for a downpour that verged on a monsoon. Nonetheless, she scraped the rat-tail strings of hair from her eyes and plodded on resolutely, unable to see more than a hundred meters in front of her. Boots with too-thin soles slipped on the now dangerously slimy grass equivalent. As the slope took her down to the valley floor, she spent more than half her time leaning forward in a gorilla-style crouch to scramble her way slowly onward. That was the first three hours.