She felt that those shadowy woods were less sinister than man. And
since she had always kept her sense of direction and come straight to
the Meadows whenever she went abroad, she had no fear or thought of
losing her way.
A mile or so distant a bare spot high on a wooded ridge struck her as a
likely place to get an unobstructed view. To reach some height and sit
in peace, staring out over far-spreading vistas, contented her. She
could put away the unpleasantness of the immediate past, discount the
possible sordidness of the future, and lose herself in dreams.
To reach her objective point, she crossed a long stretch of rolling
land, well timbered, dense in parts with thickets of berry bushes.
Midway in this she came upon a little brook, purring a monotone as it
crawled over pebbled reaches and bathed the tangled roots of trees
along its brink. By this she sat a while. Then she idled along,
coming after considerable difficulty to abruptly rising ground. Though
in the midst of timber the sun failed to penetrate, she could always
see it through the branches and so gauge her line of travel. On the
hillside it was easier, for the forest thinned out. Eventually she
gained a considerable height, and while she failed to reach the opening
seen from the Meadows, she found another that served as well.
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