Leona walked along with Brynhild. The massive black horse had its head lowered to the grass, trying to catch a bite as they moved north. It had been heresay, but rumours of a camp, a good camp, had reached Leona’s ears. Some place called Arlington, east of Portland. It was all new for the California girl that Leona was. 

Grass squelched softly underfoot as she walked. It was quiet, though not too quiet. The birds were chirping, which was good for Leona. No dead heads near her. Taking a deep breath, the woman sighed as she remembered all the bullshit that had happened in the last few weeks. She had been able to hole up outside this one small group, but then they got wiped out because they had no idea she even existed. Anyways, Arlington was supposed to be rather large. Safety in numbers.

The sounds of the Columbia River rose up in the distance. Pulling out her map, Leona kept walking. If she was right, then Arlington proper should be just about twenty miles away. Stopping for a moment, the woman checked all of Brynhild’s saddlebags. While she was doing this, the horse filched a few bites from the grass at their feet. Her tail waived at a few flies as she waited.

Finishing up, Leona climbed into Brynhild’s saddle. It wasn’t far now, she should be able to make it by sundown at the latest.