Chapter 6 #2
The ground firmed slightly as we neared the tree line, the snow thinner where the branches above broke some of the fall. The wind dropped too, not gone, but dulled enough that I could hear more than just the storm.
Boots crunching through snow. Breathing, laborious and heavy, but clear. The steady squeak of the wagon behind us.
I stepped under the first reach of branches and felt the difference immediately. The cold still bit, but it no longer clawed.
“Here, Captain,” I shouted back to Marson, slowing at last. “We stop here. Just to get our breath back.”
I eyed the trees above me. Not safe, but safer. I turned, scanning the line as they filed in behind me, counting without thinking, measuring distance, checking movement.
Everyone was still on their feet. The other wagon had fared better, but they had been following ours, which had made the track.
The captain approached me. His breath came in puffs as he lowered his neck warmer.
“You did well,” he congratulated me. He didn’t wait for my response, already turning to check on his men and the other wagon.
I looked at the horse. “That was only the first obstacle,” I told it, digging in my pockets to find something for it. I found a sugar cube, with no recollection of how I had one.
“Don’t tell,” I whispered as I fed it. It snickered while it ate its treat, then I balled up some snow and let it have some to wet its throat.
Our water was frozen, so eating snow was the best way to keep hydrated.
“I see why you’re here.”
I turned to Larana, who was rubbing a hand along the horse’s flank. “To find the trial,” I said, hearing the defensiveness in my voice.
She bobbed her head once. “Yeah. I didn’t see the dip. Don’t think Bax would’ve either.”
“I know the land.” I shrugged.
She smiled. It was tight and thin, but it was a smile. “Keep it up.”
She was already moving away before I could respond.
I leaned onto the horse for a moment. “She seems friendly,” I murmured. The horse whinnied. “Yup, that’s what I thought.”
I let them catch their breath, but staying still was dangerous here. I caught the eye of the captain and gave a slight nod, he saw me and yelled out to move.
“C’mon boy, let’s keep moving.”
I angled us along the edge of the trees, skirting the line where the snow began to thin, and by thin, I meant it was no longer at my knees.
The branches above caught most of the fall, but not all of it. Enough to ease the burden, but not enough to hide what lay beneath.
“Stay in my steps,” I called back, my voice no longer a scream over the wind, but only raised slightly to be heard. “Don’t wander.”
The horse followed close behind, his breath hot against my shoulder once more, and his hooves finding the path I had broken with careful precision. Behind us, the wagon creaked and shifted, but it held.
As we moved on, I heard voices pick up. They were talking among themselves. I worried they thought the tree line was safe, and someone would ask me to stop as the sky grew darker.
They never did, though, and as the last of the gray slipped from the sky, I slowed my pace, scanning as I moved.
Not just ahead, but down to the ground. The way the snow lay.
The way it dipped or held. The way the trees grew.
Too close together meant no room to maneuver the wagon.
Too open meant the wind would still tear through us.
I needed something in between. A natural break or a hollow. A place where the land did some of the work for me.
My fingers tightened around the reins as I veered slightly right, following a subtle shift in the terrain. The ground rose just enough for the snow to thin further, exposing patches of the frozen earth beneath.
Better footing. I paused briefly, crouching to brush aside the top layer of snow with my glove. The ground was hard-packed beneath. This was what I needed. I stood and kept moving.
Behind me, I heard the captain’s voice — calm and steady — guiding the others without overshadowing me. I smiled behind my face coverings. He had decided I was worth listening to. That was nice.
Larana walked on the other side of the wagon, not in front of me, but close enough to be useful. Or seen. I wasn’t sure which. She didn’t ask where I was going or question the direction. But I felt her watching me, measuring me.
That was also fine. Let her. If she thought she could do better, she was welcome to try.
And I’d stay back and let her fail.
The trees thickened briefly, forcing us into a tighter line. I slowed, adjusting our angle again, guiding the horse through a narrow gap between two trunks.
“Careful,” I warned over my shoulder. “Wheel will catch if you rush it.”
The wagon slowed behind us, the men easing it through carefully. They were learning too, or they were cold enough to listen.
A gust of wind cut through the branches, sending a flurry of snow down around us. The horse flinched, stamping once before settling again.
“Easy,” I murmured, reaching back to steady him.
My gaze lifted. I knew I couldn’t take two wagons and horses through here, but sometimes, just sometimes, nature gave you a hand.
I saw it and smiled. A dip in the land, shallow but wide enough to take the wagon through and give us some shelter. The trees curved slightly around it, their branches thicker, heavier with snow. The wind would still reach us, but not like before.
I angled toward it without announcing the change. If anyone questioned it, then they didn’t think I was worth the gold they were paying me.
The ground sloped gently downward as we approached, with snow thinning further under the cover of branches. I tested each step before committing my weight, making adjustments as needed.
I checked for a hidden drop or an icy slick with my staff, but it was safe enough.
Stepping into the hollow first, I turned slowly as I assessed the space, seeing there was enough room for both horses. We could unhitch the wagons and leave them behind, as they’d add cover to break the wind.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was still good.
“Here,” I called, finally stopping. “We rest here.”
The horse lowered his head slightly, his sides heaving. I let him stand, giving him a moment before loosening the reins.
Behind me, the men carefully brought in the other wagon, positioning it where I indicated without argument. Two of them started unhitching it before being told.
I moved through the space as they settled, adjusting without really thinking.
“Turn the wagon if you can,” I said, gesturing. “Block the open side. Keep the wind off the horses.”
Baxley immediately shifted, helping them carry out my instructions before I finished speaking.
Larana moved to the edge of the hollow, scanning outward. Her posture was loose but alert.
Gralen muttered something under his breath, but still followed the order with the other wagon.
Captain Marson approached me once the wagon was in place, his breath visible in the air between us.
“This is good?” he asked.
I looked around once more, taking in the trees, the slope, and the way the snow settled.
“For a while,” I said.
His jaw tightened slightly. “And after that?”
I met his gaze. “We’ll have moved on before it matters.”
That seemed to satisfy him, but I turned away before he could ask anything else, heading back to the horse. I ran a hand down his neck, feeling the tremor beneath his skin.
“Told you we’d find somewhere,” I murmured.
He huffed softly in response. Around us, the camp began to take shape, not comfortable or really safe, but functional enough for tonight, and that was all we needed.
I lifted my head, listening past the wind, past the shifting snow, past the low murmur of men settling into uneasy rest, wrapped in their cloaks as someone tried to start a fire.
Nothing moved beyond the trees. Nothing that I could hear, but that didn’t mean anything.
I pulled my cloak tightly around me and stepped back into the hollow's center, already planning tomorrow. Because this wasn’t actual rest. Not really, not for me.
It was just a pause before the next fight to stay alive.
Before I found the next trail.