Ivan urged the horses onward. Caroleen was a stoic woman, it seemed. Ivan's admiration for her mental fortitude grew. Many others under her circumstances would have succumbed to despair and grief. She merely shouldered the burden and carried on. With his growing admiration came a heavy sense of regret for what he was planning to do with her. He felt her hand squeeze his arm as they rode on is silence.<br/><br/>Ivan heard her murmur something softly besides him, but it was swallowed by the wind. What he did hear was the words, "She lives in my head, although she doesn't want you to know." Ivan hands shook at the revelation. She had been here all this time. Somehow the ritual worked, but had brought the spirit of Caroleen as well. Did she know of her fate? Could she see and hear what Ivan wanted to say to her? Before Ivan could ask, she requested a stop. Ivan reigned in the horses, and Caroleen stepped off the cart. Ivan dismounted and looked at the skies. It was still a few hour from dawn, but he felt the weariness off the past two days, crash down upon him. He was not young any more. He led the cart from the road, and began to unload the blankets that he had taken with. It was best that they rest a moment.<br/><br/>Caroleen had wondered some distance from the road, beyond the site of Ivan. He had no fear that she would have run off. He only had questions; so many questions. Drawing a vial from a pocket of his coat, he poured a small bit of the yellow powder onto a gathering of branches, and intoned a short line. The orange glow of a fire lighted up the area. The horses were tied up and allowed to rest after the harsh flight Ivan forced from them. It was safer to ride by night, as they were less likely to meet other travelers. Ivan sat with his back against a tree and awaited Caroleen's return. Questions burned in his head.