Author's note: No, it's not supposed to make sense. This is my peek into River's character from her own point of view (erhm, third-person limited? It's summertime. Give me a break. :P) Also, I stole the title from Robert Frost.

No one seemed to notice that she’d wandered away. She could hear the River trickling, saying the words that were reserved for her and her only. She heard the River calling to her, so she stood up and walked away, her feet dancing to a rhythm only they could hear. She could feel the ground underneath the soles of her feet, hear the water calling to her, see the clouds rolling through the sky, and smell the smoke rising up from the fires. But there was nothing else. She danced to the music of the River, a series of small dips and turns and pads. She danced until the River became a lake, with water so crystal clear she could see the fish swimming in the bottom, billions of dazzling colours squirming underneath her feet. She put one foot, then the other, on the path of rocks, leading her exactly where she needed to go, and continued her dance. She could smell the death before she could see it. She could hear the sighs and moans of the dead; feel the life evaporate. She knew it was coming, and still she walked, placing her feet on the rocks with a precision reserved by Dancers, propelled herself forward.

The rocks had faces. They were not human, but they had faces. They watched her, smiled and cheered. Some applauded. Some warned her. She didn’t, couldn’t listen. She had places to be. She had promises to keep, and miles to go before she could sleep. Miles to go before the sleep. Just a few more rocks. A few more sleeps. Just a few more. She saw her Brother, his face chiselled out of blue-grey stone, marbled in pink and glitter. She saw what he was now, and what he could someday become. She looked at him, and he spoke to her. You’re one of us now.

No, I am not.

You will be soon.

She smiled, smiled, kept on moving. Miles to go. A few more rocks. She can see the Release, stretche