She found it haunting her first in the rhythmic footfalls of the old mare beneath her as they trekked under the fluttering eyes of the stars. Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump.. It was like an echo with a string tethered to a hook in her chest, tugging and pulling at her, twisting her around in her saddle looking for that familiar sound. But it escaped her sight, ghostly in the silence, trailing them, whispering like a gentle breeze each time she turned her back on it to continue forward. Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump... Then, like shadow spirits, it crept upon her in the night when the need to rest weighed her down until she could not longer resist. It churned the colors of her dreams--shifting muted skies to brilliant shades of blue and sands to honey and wheat--like eyes and hair she could never forget. Tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump...