Streaks of lightning crossed the landscape below. No trace of Robert. Shadows of the forest swirled around them, and the wind brought the acrid stench of death, the taste of musket-powder and dirt. She asked, "Do you believe Robert will manage to pass through their ranks undetected?"
His laugh was bitter. "Why ask me? Are you not the one with all the answers?"
"As it was with you, the father, my vision remains blank when I seek answers pertaining the son."
"My boy is only eighteen," he spoke through clenched teeth, "he left his good life in London to assist me in my search for you. Indeed it would be a strange fate if, after surviving all that hardship and torture, he should end up slain by his own kind and left buried here."
Suddenly a Northerly wind blew in, heavily scented with conifers and the smolder of fires.
Spring Rain spoke firmly, "Robert will return with help. And he will carry on your name. Bradford, beloved mate of my soul, please believe me when I say nothing is lost in the universe."
Taking one last look at the magnificent, rain-soaked dawn splashing itself upon the Cherokee lands, she added, "Beloved, listen to me, listen and have faith. I sow the seeds of our longing for each other onto the wind.... One day, they will return to earth with the rains of spring. And then our souls will take root and blossom, giving us life once again."
He replied softly, "For this life, I only hope that our bones rest gathered together."
)
