Chapter Fifty-Four

The snow started that day. At first Aravis didn't notice it; the wind was strong, and she had her hood pulled up over her face to protect it. Soon, though, the wind brought with it bits of moisture, and, confused, she lifted her head to see snowflakes the size of marbles drifting down from the sky with an urgency that belied their fluffy shapes. They covered the ground quickly, and Aravis found herself ruffling Inga's tangled mane on more than one occasion to keep the flakes from accumulating. The ground, what little of it was visible after the last snowfall, soon disappeared.

By nightfall, the company was struggling: the shaggy ponies that carried the luggage and cooking implements were up to their shoulders in cold, wet snow, and the heels of Aravis's boots were soaking from dragging in the snow that was nearly up to Inga's belly.

"We have to stop," Darrin shouted, his voice carrying up to her on the wind. "It's getting dangerous."

"There's no good place to camp yet," Cor shouted back, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "We're too exposed here. Let's make for the crest of the next hill, see what there is."

As much as Aravis wanted to stop, she knew Cor was right—out on the plains, they were completely open to ambush, not a rock or tree nearby to take shelter by. If their tents were blown over in the night, they would be subject to the elements and worse off than they already were.

Inga gave a half-hearted buck when Aravis nudged her forward. The ascent was slippery, as there seemed to be ice in patches; Dor's sweet old mare put her full weight on one and crashed to the ground, squealing in fear as Dor pitched into the snow, swearing mightily.

Finally, though, they were staggering over the crest. Below them, hardly visible through the falling snow, was a dense forest of evergreens, dark and ominous in the light of dusk. "What do you think, Aravis?" Cor rasped. "Should we risk it?"

Aravis was about to shake her head—the darkness worried her—but she caught a glimpse of Cor's face, pale and drawn and with a slight bluish tint to his lips. "Yes," she said immediately. "Y—we need to rest."

He nodded wordlessly and led the way down the incline. Inga snorted and laced her ears back, and Aravis was convinced the beast tried her hardest to make the descent as miserable for her mistress as possible.

The forest seemed taller and darker when they stood in front of it. It was as densely snowy as the plains, but at least the wind was a little less, though it blew through the branches with a lonely whistle. She shivered.

"Let's go in a little further, find a clearing," Cor called. He broke off with a cough and emerged from it with a yawn while they waited for the others to join them.

"Wait," came Janey's voice from the back of the column. "Wait!"

Aravis twisted around in the saddle. Janey was standing with Findora, trying to tug Nim's old horse forward toward the trees, but Findora had such a tight grip on the reins that the poor animal couldn't move. "What's the matter?" she asked, spurring Inga into a sloppy canter to join them.

"She doesn't want to go into the forest," Janey answered grimly.

Findora's face was white beneath her hood.

"We need to," said Cor, who was just behind Aravis. "It's not safe for us out here."

"It's not safe for us in there, either," Findora replied shortly. "Remember what happened the last time?"

A shadow passed across Cor's face, and Aravis reached over and put her hand on his arm. "Yes, I do, Findora," he said evenly. "What are you saying?"

"They'll come again! They'll smell us—they'll hear us—"

Her voice was rising to a hysterical pitch, and Janey gripped her shoulder. "Get it together, Findora! We're a long way from Woodbarrow, you know."

"We need to eat and rest the horses, Findora," Aravis said pleadingly. "If the dragons do come, we need to be ready for them."

Findora was shaking like a leaf, but she put her head up and nodded briefly. Cor sighed. "Thank you. Let's get you something to eat and some warmer clothes."

"You need to sleep, too," Aravis told him as the horses picked their way through the snowy underbrush. "You're still sick."

"I rode all day though, without complaining," he wheedled.

"Yes, you did. But you can't be a morale booster if you're dead."

"Negativity."

"Truth."

"I'm the prince, you can't tell me what to do."

"Fine, but then I will let you freeze to death the next time you fall senseless into the snow."

He huffed like a horse but did not complain when Darrin offered to take care of Raider. Inga was testy and nipped at Aravis when she went to detangle her mane, so Aravis contented herself with only putting the saddle away under its waterproof cover and removing the bit from Inga's mouth so the nag could eat. (She got a bitten finger for her troubles.)

Because of the weather, neither Romith nor Dor could start a decent fire, so they were forced to eat cold, slightly stale bread and some of the remnants of Aravis's elk for dinner, melting snow in their cups over the spitting coals so they could have something to drink. It was far from satisfying: Aravis woke in the middle of the night with a pinched, empty feeling in her stomach that would not go away despite her best efforts to fall back asleep. Shivering in the cold, then, she wrapped herself in skins, careful not to wake Findora, who was sleeping restlessly next to her, and slipped out into the snow in search of more food.

She was horrified to see Cor crouching in front of the smoldering coals, snow accumulating on his shoulders. "You!" she hissed, startling him. "What are you doing up?"

"Er—I was just—thirsty—" he stammered, flushing.

"Who has watch?"

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Cor? Who has watch?"

"I do?"

She snarled, anger rippling through her body. "Where's Corin?"

"Aravis, I—"

"Where is he?"

Cor pointed to one of the tents. Aravis was there in a moment, throwing aside the flap and punching the larger lump in what she assumed to be the shoulder. Corin moaned. "Get up," she snapped. "Get up! While you laze around in bed, Cor keeps watch. In his condition—he can hardly lift a sword, Corin, much less protect us all! He needs to be in bed."

"You're right, absolutely right," Corin stammered. "I'll take over for him, I promise. Let me get dressed."

Corin's response startled her—she expected him to put up a fight—but her surprise was only temporary, quickly replaced by a maelstrom of emotions that she could hardly put a name to. With a snarl, she turned away and stalked back to the coals, struggling through the deep snow.

"You're really angry, aren't you," Cor said in wonder as she yanked back his collar to check the gashes. (Still clean.)

"Of course I'm really angry," she snapped.

"But why? I'm just—"

"Just what?"

"Keeping watch."

"When you should be in bed."

"Why do you suddenly care if I'm in bed or not?"

She brushed snow off his cloak with more force than was necessary. "Because I risked my life to save you and—and all you can think about is how best to get yourself killed next!"

He caught her wrist. "I'm sorry, Aravis. I didn't mean it that way. "

She wrenched away and stormed back to her tent without a word. It wasn't until a few moments later, when her heart rate was slowing, that she realized she'd never gotten the food.


Morning came all too soon. The darkness and howling storm that buffeted Aravis's tent disoriented her for a moment, but then she realized that Darrin had stuck his head in and was shouting at her over the wailing wind. "We have to move on," he was saying. "It's snowing very hard—"

"I'm awake, I'm awake," she shouted back, waving him away and grimacing. He disappeared into the driving snow, and she groaned. She had experienced Archenlandian blizzards before, but never by riding through one. It did not seem like it would be much fun.

Sure enough, when she had extricated herself from the tent, the icy, pelting wind nearly drove her off her feet. The snow, falling almost horizontally, made it difficult to see further than the next tent; all she could tell from the voices that occasionally rose over the sound of the wind was that the others were packing up quickly.

Inga was standing with her back to the wind, ears flattened against her head with displeasure, but she gave Aravis no trouble as she ran about tacking her clumsily. It was hard enough to see what she was doing in the half-dark and snow, and her fingers were thick with cold and the tack stiff.

Finally, though, she finished and swung up, nearly slipping off the other side before she found the other stirrup.

"There you are," came Cor's muffled voice. He pulled up beside her, Raider snorting as snowflakes pelted his nose. "I was beginning to think you'd decided to sleep in."

"If only," she answered coolly, wrapping her scarf around her neck and chin. "Are we ready to set off?"

"Most of us have already set off. There's no use in traveling as a group, since the snow is so thick—I sent them on ahead in pairs. You, myself, and Corin are left."

"You waited for me?" she asked, surprised despite herself. "I thought we were having a tiff."

"You were having a tiff, I just sat back and took it."

"Is that what Corin's doing to us?"

"Sitting back and taking it? Yes, I think so. Ah, speak of the devil."

Corin pulled up on Aravis's other side, muffled up to his eyes and looking practically identical to Cor save for the horse he rode. "Are we the last?" he asked her, avoiding eye contact with his twin.

Aravis nodded. "Yes. Let's do get on, I'm freezing to my saddle."

The horses moved forward, slogging through the deep snow with obvious displeasure. Though they were protected somewhat by the evergreens that towered over them, the thick dark branches blocked what little light there was, making it very difficult to see the safety (or lack thereof) of the path before them. Aravis could tell the others had passed through shortly before them, but the hoofprints were already filling with ice and snow and would soon be hidden. She urged Inga forward.

There was no conversation to be had between the three of them. It was easiest to stay silent, of course, because the wailing wind caught every word and threw it away, but Aravis had the distinct feeling that even if it had been silent, there still wouldn't have been any talking. Finally, some time later, she sighed. "Is this what being you feels like, Corin?"

"What?"

"I said, is this what being you feels like?"

"What do you mean?"

"Being caught between two people who are in an argument and aren't speaking to each other."

"Yes," Cor cut in, "but we usually fight about stupid things."

"Charming."

"This isn't stupid?" Corin said bravely.

"If you're asking whether leaving your elder brother to get sold into slavery is a stupid thing to fight about, no, it isn't," Cor snarled.

"I didn't leave you anywhere. You shouldn't have gone out alone!"

"Oh, so now it's my fault."

"Not any less than it is mine! You said it yourself—'Shadesport is a slaver's den. Don't go anywhere alone.'"

"If Aravis had gone out alone and been taken, you wouldn't dare say that to her—"

"Oh, no," she said loudly, "you two aren't dragging me into this."

They ignored her. "I don't deserve to be treated like this," Corin shouted, making Inga snort. "I was drunk, I was hung-over, but at least I stayed! You should have known better, you were a slave once!"

Aravis halted Inga immediately and forced her to back up. His childhood with Arsheesh was an incredibly sensitive subject for Cor—she only knew him to talk about it at any length with her and Lune, never Corin, who couldn't be expected to understand. Either way, she wanted no part of the maelstorm that was sure to come.

"What did you say to me?" Cor bellowed, wrenching Raider's head around so he was closer to Corin. "Say it to my face, you bastard!"

"You were a slave!" Corin roared back. His pretty dune mare squealed with fright at the sight of Raider, but he held it steady and scowled fearsomely up at his taller brother.

"You're going to regret that," Cor answered. "Get off that damn palfrey and face me like a man—"

"Oh, I will—"

Corin practically fell from the saddle in his haste to dismount, landing unsteadily in the thigh-high snow and stumbling forward. Caught off-guard by the sudden movement, Raider whinnied and reared back, his hooves slipping on the ice that lay hidden under the snow. For a terrifying moment, Aravis thought the two of them would go over backward, but the massive horse found his footing at the last second by veering around and tripping back a few steps too far. Inga squealed as Raider's hooves found her knees, and suddenly, Aravis too felt herself sliding. She instinctively hunched forward and clung to Inga's neck to keep herself in the saddle, but then she realized that Inga's hooves were pawing frantically at the snow as they slipped toward a steep drop-off where the side of the low forest hill had sloughed away long ago.

Inga bugled and the world turned upside down. For a long moment, Aravis felt and saw nothing but the snow that pelted her face, and then her head struck something hard, the snow blurred, and everything went dark.