A bush full of brambles tugged and clawed at the hem of Esme's unadorned skirts, and she stopped to untangle herself; her skirts she lifted and nimbly she picked at the seed pods while she listened to Tara. From the corner of her eye, Esme noted that lights flickered on in the farmhouse, and she dropped her skirts noting that it was growing darker around them, and soon the oncoming twilight would fade into the blackness of night which would devour and consume them. She began to walk again, her bare feet treading quietly along the cooling earth, and weaved deeper into the woods she did.<br/><br/>“If we find a decent place for shelter, we should stop. Pitch blackness will soon come, and it may be a long night. I doubt that either one of us are used to sleeping in the wilds, and tomorrow will prove just as trying as today with poor sleep, aching muscles and an empty belly.” Esme then cast a glance at Tara.  “Perhaps we can find some asparagus growing in the wild, or berries or crab apples as tart as they are, or if the gods favour us, another farmhouse.” Esme continued to walk on an unknown path hiking up her skirts at time to climb over a fallen dead tree or step over a marshy puddle.