From South of Superior by Ellen Airgood
She felt the sun on her back, smelled pine needles and hot sand, heard the breeze whispering in the trees. The rustle of grasses echoed the long-gone water. She was in this clearing deep in the woods in a forgotten place, and for at least this moment needed nothing more or less. She walked, and with each step she let another inch of the long furl of her expectations go. The place itself was like a steady hand, a low voice, a very old person who'd seen too much to get overexcited anymore. Stop now a minute, it said. Stop searching.