There was only one thing Tiltyu hated more than the cold and the snow, and that was marching through cold and snow. The only comfort was that she wasn't alone in her discomfort, even the knights with their mounts and warm armor were grumbling.
It wasn't fair, she thought. Everything was going just fine until her father and Duke Langbolt decided to show up and try to kill Lord Sigurd. Now they were stuck hiding out in freezing cold Silesia for who knew how long? Tiltyu shivered miserably, pulling her cloak tighter around herself. This sucks, she wanted to say out loud, surely even the most prim and proper of them wouldn't begrudge her for saying what they were all thinking, right?
Not that it'd change anything, of course. Saying something out loud didn't make it go away.
"Tiltyu?"
She stopped in her tracks and turned around, coming face to flank with Azel's horse.
"Oh...hey, Azel," she said. "You getting tired? I'll ask Lord Sigurd if we can rest."
"No, I'm fine...I was just..." He blushed, coughing into his sleeve. "Well, you look tired, that's all, and I thought maybe..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Would you like a ride? I mean, would you feel better riding behind me?"
Tiltyu smiled. Azel was shy and awkward and submissive, but ever since they were kids he'd always known how to cheer her up. Suddenly, she felt better about being here; even if it was the worst possible situation they could have been in, at least she wasn't alone.
"Yeah," she said, "I'd love that."
He helped her get on and she sat behind him, draping her arms across his and resting her head on his shoulder. And as the march continued, she realized the snow looked kind of pretty now that she didn't have to walk through it.