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Page 16
"I don't want any," Lucy replied too hastily, but Abby, holding her nightgown away from her boots, climbed into the tall wagon as silently as possible to get their precious canteen. She made Lucy take a sip but refused any herself. "But, Abby" Lucy protested.
"I'm fine," Abby insisted. "Really." Then, replacing the canteen, she said, "I need to take a walk."
"By yourself?"
"Yes."
Despite a frown, Lucy did not argue, for Abby had long since convinced her sister of her need for snatched privacy along the trail. "You'll call if you need me?"
Abby assured her she would. She watched Lucy duck back under the wagon; then she slipped carefully over the tongue to which the oxen were chained during the day, hugging the shawl about her. It had once been their mother's and was therefore not very long. Abby did not recall Catherine Wynne but knew she had been more petite than Lucy. Their father, now stooped, was also small. He often commented how Abby, tall and willowy, was their changeling, resembling no one in the familyespecially with her unusual abilities. His thoughtless remarks added to her sense of isolation.
Abby walked swiftly toward the expanse of sand away from the mountains, listening to the whispers of wind and men and the muffled noise of the livestock.
Without warning, all sound ceased. Startled by the utter silence, Abby stopped abruptly. She

 
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