THIRTEEN
It hadn't been a hundred trees, but she had lost count after the first dozen. She'd climbed until she could not reach any higher, then summoned a gust of wind to carry her across the treetops to another tree, which she would climb to the highest point before doing the same again.
She fell more than she flew, letting the spread cloak slow her descent, but as the night went on, her mind considered how she might improve upon her situation. Something larger and more rigid than her cloak to catch the air, big enough to lie upon full-length as it buoyed her up. But not too heavy, for the air could only lift so much.
Rosa reached for the next tree, willing herself to climb it with her aching arms, even if the wolf was no longer in sight. Until the sun rose, she knew the hunter would
