It occurred to her that the riders, still hidden by the rise
and fall of the track ahead, would soon be upon her, and that there
was nowhere to hide. But the same nightmare logic that says not to
fear, it is only a dream, told her now that this could not be what in
fact it was: a dangerous meeting in a place far from help. It all
seemed so inevitable. And she was tired of fighting.
Two horsemen appeared on the track below her as she reached the crown
of the rise, which occurred at the very point where the opposing walls
were highest, rising in serrated levels to a height of sixty feet,
several yards to either side of her.
The riders were dressed in red.
She looked quickly about her for a sheltering shadow or place to hide,
as all the warnings that she had been raised on began to torment her.
But the noon sun was hidden by a cloud, as if it had not the heart to
watch: there were no shadows. And they had seen her.
The two men rode easily, lazily in their fine English saddles. Young
cavalrymen, they had been sent to investigate reports that one of the
escaped prisoners believed to be in the area had been sighted.
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