Chapter #4

More about Chapter #4

From my new book, some lines of chapter #4.

There was no sign of life. No movement, no sound. Only the emptiness and the silent memory of a place where people or creatures had once lived. She stood for a moment, her breath heavy with exertion, taking it all in. The forest had led her here, through hardship and uncharted territory, and for the first time, she glimpsed the world beyond her own memory, a world that seemed both dangerous and desolate.
Along the overgrown street, herbs protruded from stones, roots snaking through walls, leaves gleaming in the thin light. Moonsmilk glittered silvery on a cracked windowsill, Rusty Hairwort writhed over a doorframe, and Dune Valley grew in soft pulses across the flagstones and crooked roofs. She picked each bunch carefully, their scents penetrating deep into her weary nose: the sharp, metallic tang of Rusty Hairwort, the soft, fresh notes of Moonsmilk, and the earthy, almost salty aroma of Dune Valley. How she knew what to do with the herbs, she didn't know. An inner certainty guided her, as if knowledge from another life whispered. Further on, she found some sprouting, half-rotten tubers that still looked edible.