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Chapter Sixteen

Baelil wiped the sweat off of his forehead and the back of his neck as he stopped to rest his horse. Reaching into his saddle bag, he pulled out a fresh shirt.  Stripping the sweat soaked polo from his muscle defined torso, he rolled it up and put it in a small sack that was designated for such a purpose and donned a clean one that had been rinsed in lavender water to help retain its brightness and, therefore, gave off a light and refreshing lavender scent. They’d combed the area for weeks without any sign of the girl and her companions.  How could they just up and disappear?

“She has to be here somewhere,” Ari groaned as she pulled her horse up next to his and released the reins so that it could graze on the thick blades of grass that not only managed to survive the nuclear holocaust, but they’d grown back stronger than ever.

It never ceased to amaze Baelil about how flexible and adaptable nature could be when it came to survival.&nbs

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