A Mother Of No Destination -

Elora was a woman defined by the miles she had traveled, though she had never once looked at a map. In the seaside village of Oakhaven, they called her the "Mother of No Destination."

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." A Mother of No Destination

She didn’t carry a child in her arms, but rather a heavy, cedar-lined trunk strapped to a small wooden cart. Every morning, as the fog rolled off the Atlantic, Elora would begin her walk. She didn’t head toward the market or the docks; she simply walked until the sun dipped below the horizon, often ending up in a different thicket or cliffside than the day before. Elora was a woman defined by the miles