Esme sat upright, the chill of winter now seeping through her clothes from where she lay on the now damp grass. She didn't know how long she stayed on the ground thinking about a past that seemed a lifetime ago but now she had to look forward and move on. Maybe her sins were paid by her blood, torture and almost death, though she didn't think that was the case; suicide was a coward's way out.
Pulling her hood over her head, her dark waves of hair framing her face and helping keep the cold at bay, she jumped to her feet and threw her bag over her shoulders as she casually walked back through the woods. Esme began whistling a joyous tune, aware of the rustling of leaves and the light scent of lavender following in the shadows. That scent had almost clouded her mind while she lay on the ground and nearly sent her into a blissful sleep. She chuckled under her breath.