"I can no' do it, Da! Do no' be askin' it o' me!" Hot, bitter tears, leaving tracks in the dust
and dirt on her cheeks, streamed down Shannon's pale face. Distractedly, she swiped the salty
droplets away leaving streaks of mud across her high cheekbones. As a result of the frantic
race through the preceding night, her flaming-red hair--like the tangled branches of a sweet
briar rose about its central treasure--was in wild disarray about her heart-shaped face.
"I can no' do it, Da," she again whispered desperately, glancing up at Shamus and pleading
silently for his assistance.
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