Page 25 of Winter's Echo
“Move,” I ordered the horse, already turning back toward the trees. “While you’ve got it.”
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.
