Lydia was half–shoved onto the bus with the rest of the healers. The others clambered in with chatter and laughter, their voices bubbling with the careless delight of people who thought they were off to some grand excursion.
She, however, struggled to keep her expression steady. A tightness gripped her chest, and her hands curled against her skirt, but fortunately, none of them seemed to notice her tense face amidst their own giddy noise.
Inside, she slid into a seat by the window, letting the cheerful crowd wash past her. The bus jolted forward, wheels crunching gravel, and the setting sun cast long fingers of gold across the horizon. Lydia pressed her temple against the cool glass, her gaze fixed outside.
She searched the dimming scenery, shadows stretching over fields and the silhouettes of trees whipping by. She told herself she wouldn't see anyone, not really. Whoever might be following her, if anyone truly was, would never reveal themselves.
