Nightwards

The world is swinging nightwards; ’tis October, And twilight’s on the heights; The Bluffs, like silent sentries gray and sober, Stand lonely in the fading evening lights.

Even the call, which grew stronger the further nightwards she walked, and the press of earthwarmth it brought with it, even that was a compromise she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. And yet she couldn’t fight it. She couldn’t shut it out like she could the urge to reach, so she knew she’d have to learn to accept it. Perhaps in time she’d even be able to draw strength from it again. She took a small drink from her water-skin, which was still half full, thanks to careful rationing.