I hunch forward against the rain biting at my face. This was where my brother’s horse came from. I thrust my lantern out in an arc, realizing too late the wind has gotten meaner. The flame sputters out.

No relighting it, no stopping. I stumble on. Damn him, anyway! He knows better. I wish the moon would come out.

The clouds break, and there ahead, moonlight glints off an unnaturally sprawled line of wet silver.

I kneel, looking up, needing the rain to cut me, lessen the sting of my tears. I wish the moon would go away.