Page 23 of Winter's Echo
Larana was pretty. She was also sharp and dangerous. I could tell that just by looking at her. Her obvious flair for violence was evident from the weapons she carried. She wasn’t just a simple bedwarmer. I’d seen groups that brought women for that purpose, and I was doubtful that she was one of them.
Not in this cold. No one was that desperate.
The horse gave a sharp whinny, and I froze instantly. The creak came a heartbeat later.
Deep. Splitting.
I looked up just as the tree started to fall. It moved slowly at first, groaning under the weight of the snow and the wind before crashing down hard enough to shake the ground beneath my boots.
I searched the rest of the tree line to see if there were any obvious signs that any of the others were about to topple. They looked sturdy enough.
My gaze went back to the trunk sprawled across our path. Long and solid and completely in the way.
I glanced at the horse. He gave me a flat look.
“Yeah, I know,” I muttered, pulling him forward. “I don’t like it any more than you do.”
We curved out wide, but the snow grew deeper, and the horse slowed down from the depth dragging at his legs. His pace faltered.
I looked back. The captain was already off the wagon and wading through the snow. He saw me looking and made his way to my side.
“What do you need?” he called over the wind. I appreciated that he wasn’t trying to tell me what to do but was waiting for my instruction.
“Get them off the wagon,” I yelled back. “We’re only making his job harder with the extra weight.”
The captain didn’t waste words. He simply nodded in acknowledgment, then turned back through the snow to shout out orders.
I kept moving, angling the horse wider around the fallen trunk. The wind cut across us, dragging at my cloak and stinging my face where the wrappings had slipped loose.
“Easy,” I murmured, my hand tightening on the reins. “Watch your footing.”
The snow deepened another inch, then another, and it looked ready to swallow us whole. The horse’s legs strained, each step slower than the last as it fought through the deep snow.
Behind me, voices rose, and orders were barked. Boots hit the ground, and the wagon creaked as the weight was lifted.
The horse moved a little easier, but not by much.
“Come on,” I coaxed, stepping ahead and breaking the trail myself. “Follow me, boy.”
The first step sank to mid-calf. The second to my knee. This is exactly why I carried a quarterstaff, to help me through the snow.
“Shades,” I muttered, bracing myself as I hauled forward again.
I felt the rein tug as the horse hesitated, then moved on, snorting as it pushed through the drift I’d carved.
At least it was progress. It was slow, painfully slow, but progress nonetheless.
I glanced back just long enough to see the men spreading out, some already moving ahead to pack the snow down. Baxley was among them, silent as ever, moving efficiently and deliberately.Larana didn’t stay with the wagon either. She cut across the drift, choosing higher ground without hesitation.
Of course she did. It was all higher ground to her, given her height.
I faced forward again, adjusting our angle. The trunk pushed us farther out than I liked, into uneven ground where snow hid whatever was beneath.
“Careful,” I warned, more to myself than the horse. My boot hit something solid beneath the surface — a buried rock or frozen root — and I shifted quickly, redistributing my weight before it could take me down.
The horse faltered behind me, almost as if it knew I’d almost slipped and didn’t want to do the same.
“Steady,” I breathed, reaching back to press a hand against his neck. “Clever boy, if you fall, I fall. Let’s not do that.”
