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The cliff which had crumbled under Tsvetka's feet looked set to send down another avalanche; seedlings sprouted at precipitate angles, their roots white and torn - almost as though they were warning her of her near future.

Near being the operative word. Each lightning glance over her shoulder saw the... the cloud gaining on her. There was no way she could outrun it; she gave up looking behind, and tried to find something to help her, to hide her, to... Samson veered into her path, and away at right angles to the way they had been headed. Unquestioning, Tsvetka followed him. He could outrun them, when the time came. She would make sure he did. For now she followed his zig-zagging lead.