A Mother Of No Destination <Fast>

Elora stopped, her weathered face softening into a smile. "I am not going to a place," she said, her voice like dry leaves. "I am tending to the journey itself."

The village children, curious and bold, once cornered her near the Whispering Pines. "Where are you going, Elora?" they chirped. "The road to the north leads to the city, and the road to the south leads to the salt mines. You’re just walking into the woods." A Mother of No Destination

"A mother looks after her own," she whispered. "But who looks after those who belong nowhere? I carry them with me. As long as I am moving, they are still traveling. As long as I have no destination, they are never 'lost'—they are simply on their way." Elora stopped, her weathered face softening into a smile

For forty years, Elora walked. She became a living ghost of the coastline, a rhythmic presence that the villagers eventually used to time their own lives. When she finally grew too old to pull the cart, she sat on a bench overlooking the sea. "Where are you going, Elora