Yolanda awoke, her dreams leaving her wet and exhausted. A slow smile split her lips; what would the Padre say about such lust found in the heart of a pious woman? She let out a
sharp bark of a laugh. She was thirsty and pushed her bulk out of the rocker, groaning as the cramped muscles of her legs prepared for the load.
The figure had taken on a more definite shape, though the hardness of the natural land softened his edges to charcoal. She shaded her eyes, cutting the glare of the early evening sky, its turquoise and coral like jewels set in the fine black-veined silver of the rocky horizon. He carried no baggage, ran hatless.
She scowled. Charcoal smoke wisps trailed behind him.
