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Chapter 4: Onward I March

Roran was woken the next morning by the warmth spreading across his face. His blanket was pulled up around his shoulders and his face spread with a smile, contentment spreading inside him. Then he remembered the day before. The smile vanished and he sat up.

He glanced around to orientate himself. Nothing but sand. He shook his head. Snowfire was lying a short distance away, his head resting on his forelimbs. At Roran's awakening, Snowfire stood. He was a smart horse and Roran knew it. On many occasions it had been Snowfire that had kept him alive in the thick of battle. He stood and brushed a little bit of sand from his arm. Roran chuckled as he reached up to feel his hair oddly angled from his slumber. Swinging his arms around he stretched, giving his muscles a good work out.

The camp fire still had a minority of unburnt juniper bush on it so Roran stoked it up and boiled enough water for another coffee. While he had been among the Varden Roran had become dependent on the drink and had picked up a habit of depositing a teaspoon of honey into his coffee before he drank it. Mixing a coffee, Roran made note of which way he had come. It had been from the south-west he realised as he remembered leaving from the north-east gate. The coffee went down nicely and after stowing the mug, he was ready to mount Snowfire for another hard days ride. Covering the coals with sand, Roran clambered onto the Stallions back and urged him onward, into the heat of the Hadarac Desert.

The sky was a brilliant blue over head as a lone crow circled high above, waiting for a meal. Roran noticed the scavenger and muttered to himself "Well you won't find one in me my friend."

Snowfire was an incredibly endurable horse, able to traverse almost any terrain without so much as a foot fault. Sweat coated Roran's brow, as did small particles of sand which clung to his bodily moistures. He hadn't a clue where he was heading and nor did he care but he knew he would find some place to go.

* * *

By noon Roran had traversed an enormous amount of leagues, leaving the Varden and his troubles far behind. He was happy with his progress that was for sure but he had to keep going. Snowfire's pace had somewhat decreased so he decided to take an hour out to give the horse a break. He was extremely grateful for the horse's efforts and although he could not tell Snowfire this he was sure the stallion sensed it.

Roran reached out a rough hand and stroked the horse's mane as he gave it a healthy serving of water from the wineskin. Snowfire lapped it up and nudged Roran for more. "Alright but just a bit, I don't know how long this will have to last us," he said reluctantly pouring more into his hand.

"Fancy an apple?" he asked Snowfire.

Reaching into the saddle bag Roran withdrew a large, red apple and offered to Snowfire on his palm. Snowfire did not hesitate and instead snatched up the apple, crunching it in half with his tough jaw. Roran smiled "you've earnt that boy."

After a rest the pair continued their trek across the desert, heading to where they knew not. Roran was completely sure that nothing could survive the harshness of the place and as they continued he saw nothing of the wildlife. Leaning in the saddle Roran dozed into a light sleep as Snowfire took charge and carried him forwards.

* * *

Roran woke with a start as he felt himself begin to slip from the saddle. His eyes jerked open and he was immediately paralysed with fear by the looming wall of sand in front of him. He looked backwards behind Snowfire to see the other half of the enormous dune that the horse had carried him up. Snowfire's muscular legs strained with each step as he struggled to keep his footing on the soft sand.

He half expected the wave of sand to break over him and crush them both like a giant wall of green water from the ocean. It reminded him of some of the treacherous waves that he and the villagers of Carvahall had journeyed up when the ventured into the Boar's Eye, a deadly swirling whirlpool off the coast of Teirm that spelt certain death for most sailors.

Step by step they inched closer to the top of the dune. Roran was in awe, it must have been at least sixty feet high with an incline of around thirty degrees. What was even more amazing was Snowfire's determination to reach the top. He felt different as though something was missing. Then it hit him, the wind. The wind was gone, probably due to the dune. Sweat poured from him as the dune trapped the sun from the west and blocked the breeze from the east.

Roran tightened his grip on his steed's reins, willing him with every fibre in his body to make it to the top of the dune. At last Snowfire lifted his forelegs over the top of the dune and scratched with his hind legs to pull himself up. Then all of a sudden the edge of the dune began to crumble away and Snowfire started to slip backwards towards the sandy wall. If he slipped the horse would be maimed for sure and Roran if he wasn't crushed would be severely injured.

Roran had to act. He vaulted over Snowfire's neck and grabbed the reins that he had dropped in the sand. Pulling with all his might, he heaved Snowfire. The white stallion fought gravity as it continued to pull itself up. At last his hind legs managed to find the top of the dune and Snowfire was pulled free from the danger. Roran collapsed on the baking ground, relief flooding through him for himself and for Snowfire.

When finally he had the strength to stand Roran stood and patted his horse on the nose once more "good job boy."

Turning, he looked to the east and saw on the horizon a long black layer, of what he could not make out. Squinting he tried to pertain a better judgement of what it was that he saw but he could not. "Shall we continue Snowfire? I have a feeling we may be close to a city," Roran said to Snowfire, lifting himself back into the saddle.