Tomlin/Seeds of Healing? Page 16
Seeds of Healing
By: J. R. Tomlin
Zalista dropped her saddlebags, and hurried to the window. Something she had sensed in the innkeeper when he handed her the key had made her pulse with alarm. But there was no sign of her pursuers. A boy curried her sweat-lathered horse in the empty stableyard. Its head drooped in exhaustion after her pell-mell ride across Frenich.
She slammed the shutters together and shoved the bar into the slots. Leaning her head against the wooden slats, she closed her eyes. She needed a moment, that was all, just a moment. . .
She jerked upright. Goddess, had she fallen asleep standing up? If she didn’t have sleep and hot food she’d never reach home. Three times, groggy from lack of sleep, she had nearly fallen from the saddle. The last miles were a blur.