Freeze
When his horse’s sides were lathered with foam and he could smell water, finally Elias stopped.
It was pitch-black outside and he didn’t have a lantern. He climbed from his horse’s back and walked her slowly to the stream.
After a ride like that, she deserved more than winter-crisp water and no blanket. But he could not offer her more than the heat of a fire.
Elias put his clothes back on, in this distant safe place, then he gathered as much dry wood as he could find and set it alight.
De Lacey had come in before dinner and his stomach had become used to comfort of the hearth.
Elias shoved down his hunger and checked his jacket thoroughly.
He was missing only the largest knife, tossed back to the floor in panic.
But the blue book, money, and list of alchemists were as he left them, and Franz’s bounty was still tied to his saddle as it had been when he arrived.
Elias sat on the cold ground and leaned his back against a tree.
He put his head in his hands. He was better now, stronger than he’d ever been.
His head didn’t hurt, his cuts only a little.
The feeling of being watched had followed him, and it made the woods feel strange and unwelcome though he’d been among trees for all his life.
But even that was small in exchange for his health.
He knew where he was roughly, and he had enough money to get him wherever he needed to go.
His horse was young and friendly; she could canter for ages.
He didn’t have to wear bandages and Franz’s Christmas clothes nearly let him pass for a gentleman, even stiff and reeking as they were.
His coat, though it was small, was warm.
But Elias had never been alone this long before. He was always surrounded by people who loved him.
In the dark, he felt for Agatha’s doll.
It was a soft thing, with mohair curls and a face of bright yarn.
“Crying is for babies.”
Elias laughed and turned over on his side.
When he woke the next morning, the horse whickering and nibbling at his hair, his tears had turned to frost on his cheeks.