The hill was wooded, but the woods had been cleared of brush and made into parklands. It was open and airy, which looked pretty but was worrisome; he dared not be seen here. He wouldn't have to rustle through thickets, or keep his bow from catching on brambles, which was good; but if there were guards and foresters here, they could be equally quiet, which could be very bad. Nothing he could do about that, though; he couldn't even be as careful as he'd like, because going slowly was just as likely to get him trapped as going noisily. Down the slope from the crest he found a spring, a good sign. A little rivulet flowed from it; he followed it down, stepping from stone to stone, hoping the noise of the water would mask his steps. Within a hundred yards, two other streams had joined it. Past floods had carved the banks waist high; if he kept low and avoided loose rocks, he could stay hidden.
He stepped carefully, testing each stone to see whether it would slither out from under his weight. The banks were moss and roots and raw red earth; the stream ran over quartz sand and smooth stones. The woods thinned out as he went farther down. There was a line of white flowered trees ahead, at the edge of a cliff, and the rush of a waterfall plunging into water. He crept into the shadow of the broad limbed white trees and looked down. The rock face was only ten or twelve feet high. At the base was a paved pool, set in a meadow; and in the pool was an unclothed woman.
He settled his back against the tree trunk, and looked away from her long enough to search for other watchers. The pool was a circle cut by the cliff, twenty yards wide and walled with pink stone blocks. The area surrounding was a manicured lawn, edged with rose bushes. No one else in sight except the woman.
He let his eyes rest on her. Her hair and eyes were dark, her skin was the color of a fawn. The water was waist deep on her. She glided smoothly back and around, her fingertips trailing through the water and the white petals. He watched her for a long time.
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