Nisil eyed the open expanse before him, exhilarated by the frosty night air for the second time in his life.
With a beaming smile, he stepped out onto the great stone bridge as he had so many nights before, pushing the same heaping wheelbarrow of hay.
"Rolff's got ye out pretty early today don' he?" One of the guards remarked from the comfort of the fire.
"That he does, gentlemen, enjoy the fire for me." Nisil pushed forth as the wooden wheel groaned and bounced over the cobblestone.
It was a long haul to the stable, and he pressed on in earnest, realizing the difficulty of his current task. The load was extra heavy tonight, and he knew he was on the verge of sweating: a fatal error in this cold. No other morning had he ever needed a break however, and taking one now might raise suspicion.
A few moments after feigning pulling a rock from his shoe, he completed his trek and stood before a familiar stall.
"Escanor…" he called.
An aged donkey picked up her head. "There's my sweet girl," he began as he entered and slowly roused her from her beauty sleep.
The two forsaken creatures had spent many cold mornings with one another: harvesting firewood and water for the shop.
"How about we go on one last trek together?" he asked at length.
With a resigned snort, she endearingly flopped back down onto the straw in protest.
Snow drifts covered the southern road for miles, and so the beleaguered duo pressed on, and downward through switchbacks to the valley below. Numerous times they slid on loose stones underfoot and slick patches of ice which threatened to send them careening down embankments onto the road below. The wind howled viciously as it sought any gap in Nisil's shawl.
Daybreak came at long last, granting some reprieve from the frigid cold grip of the night. After several more hours the terrain levelled and brought them to the start of the Yorgrim River valley.
Nisil led Escanor to the riverbank to drink, and took a moment to unsaddle some of the heavier pouches of glassware and tools. After ensuring she was comfortable and able to steady herself at the water's edge, Nisil leaned against a large boulder, exhausted.
While still chilly, the air was warmer in the valley. Nisil rest his head back, smiling as he soaked in his first southern rays. Birds bathed in the shallows on the opposite bank, occasionally darting to the safety of nearby branches as the dark form of a slaughterfish drew near.
He closed his eyes and thought of the night prior with a smirk. Lazily, his mind began to wander even further still, drifting back to one of his earliest memories.
He stood at the ships prow, struggling to view land above the salt-worn rail before his father scooped him up, seemingly effortlessly, to place him upon his shoulders. How tall he had felt, looking down upon the Sea of Ghosts churning around the vessel.
He could still remember his first reaction to seeing the City of Kings.
He inhaled sharply, admiring the towering beauty of its walls and the gray water lapping the sides of its docks. He remembered how the cold air had invigorated him, even as a boy. It permeated his little lungs and infused his soul with the refreshing wind of opportunity.
How naïve he was, he had come to realize.
Nisil jolted awake and sat upright as his eyes darted about. He twisted and saw Escanor had wandered no more than a few paces, yet still scrambled to his feet and chastised himself for his carelessness. He was a fugitive now, and had many more miles to put between himself and his former maester.
At this moment, Rolff was undoubtedly groggily rousing himself from his drunken stupor to find his storeroom looted and many of his tools gone. Smiling, Nisil saddled Escanor and led her to the road. Apparently, he had lived up to Rolff's expectations of his kind after all. The smile slowly faded from his lips.
His father was no thief, despite the many times their people had been accused of such by the Nords. Despite this, Nisil knew his father now looked down on his decisions with pride nevertheless, for he was certainly no murderer.
Escanor's hooves clicked upon the cobble as they set off southward once more and the grin returned to his face. While Rolff would be enraged at the treachery, and his father disappointed by his act of thievery, Nisil took solace in the light load he carried upon his belt.
As his father had once said, 'A blood-stained dagger is one of the heaviest weights of all.'
"This is the worst decision I've ever made," Nisil spat and panted after having pushed Escanor free from yet another hidden hot spring. Her legs were caked in the slimy mud, and spittle frothed at her wrinkled lips as well.
Deciding not to take the main road eastward around the Eastmarch swamp, Nisil had unwittingly drawn them directly into the same trap that had ensnared many of the massive mammoth skeletons now littering the landscape. He grimaced, thinking of his and Escanor's sun-bleached bones baking in the sun.
This morning, the duo had frozen, yet now they panted and sweated in steam of the hot spring marsh. Twilight was approaching within hours, and they were quickly reaching the end of their finite pool of energy. After all, he thought as he poured their remaining water to cool her, she was an old gal. He would not be able to stand himself if he pushed her past her breaking point in this miserable place.
As he regained his composure and gazed out over the cracked and bubbling landscape before them, his eyes lit upon three figures: all clad in fur and bearing weapons.
He immediately ducked and yanked at Escanor's rope as he bid her lay down. This was no use, he quickly realized, for there was naught nearby but his small shrub to hide behind. It already proved much too small to mask the form of a stubborn donkey.
Peering through the branches, he held still with bated breath.
The trio was headed straight for them.