A resounding answer of “Yes, sir!” made it evident his order was highly understandable.
Lionel drew his sword and led the troop forward. Very well, devil. You had best pray Clarysa is unharmed, or I shall personally see that your death is the most excruciating in the history of the Five Lands!
* * * *
Clarysa exited the stable and guided her steed up a hill. The air was clear except for an occasional flurry. She easily picked up the Captain’s trail as the sun climbed higher behind a haze-filled sky. Frigid morning air seeped into the gaps of the thick scarf around her head. If nothing else, at least her feet felt comfortable, buried in fur-lined boots. She glanced back. Vandeborg loomed, dark and gloomy, behind her.
She continued ahead. Then she spied movement.
Patrulha, Hunter, and three other men were riding steadily across the snow. Clarysa was about a half mile behind them. The blurred edge of Dungeon Forest lined the horizon on the east, while rolling, snow-covered hills filled the scene to the west. Clarysa had only a vague sense of the direction in which they headed. Vandeborg soon faded behind her in a sea of gray and mist.
She began to wonder if the Captain was trying to lose her, for it seemed every time she caught up to the party, they sprinted ahead even faster. A cruel trick, if that were the case. But the obstacle only made her more determined. Clarysa plodded on.
Hours passed. The blinding white fields grew precipitously darker. Clarysa glanced up at the dour-faced clouds. They foretold a long and terrible storm.
Snow began falling at a furious rate. She pulled her wrappings about her tightly, but the action did little to mitigate the bitter cold. Clarysa strained to see Patrulha’s rescue party amid the gloom. She urged the brave Palomino on. I hope I’m not leading us both to a frozen death on this lonely plain.
Waves of icy precipitation washed over her as she traveled. A biting wind kicked up, making her eyes smart with needlelike precision. She gritted her teeth. This had to be Nature’s version of a wintry torture chamber. Clarysa prayed the horse would not drop from coldness and exhaustion, as she herself felt dangerously close to doing.
Gathering her wits, Clarysa called out to the riders before her. But the wind snatched her words away. The distant shapes of riders and horses began to blur. She fought to keep her eyes open. Were they traveling to a location within the Snowflake Kingdom, or somewhere beyond? Would she catch up to them in time?
The search party finally halted. Clarysa spurred her horse forward. Patrulha and Hunter exchanged glances at her approach. They had seen her, no doubt. Their adversarial posturing hinted at an argument. Clarysa inched closer until she was near enough to hear them.
“I’ll take full responsibility. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”
“I said no! She’ll slow us down.”
“But she’s kept up this far. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”
“Hardly.”
“Patrulha, don’t be an ass. She’s only trying to help.”
“No one asked her to come.”
“Well, she’s here now. We can’t spare anyone to go back with her. And I for one won’t be the one to deal with Stellan if we don’t. Will you?”
Patrulha glared at him with her good eye. Silence appeared to be her answer.
Hunter smiled. “Then it’s settled.”
Scowling, Patrulha pulled her scarf back against her face. Her brows furrowed as she stared at Clarysa. “Staring, spying, eavesdropping–will you be gracing us with any of your other bad manners, dear Princess?”
Clarysa’s heart sank. “I only want to help Stellan,” she mumbled. How was it she managed to offend Patrulha at every turn? As the Captain turned away and rode on, she risked a glance at Hunter, seeking assurance. He motioned her forward.
“Best keep up before she changes her mind!”
He gave her horse’s rump a firm slap as she rode past him. Clarysa sighed with relief. A fresh burst of adrenaline revived her. Heading due north, they were soon swallowed by the wintry might.
* * * *
Night fell. Clarysa and her companions made camp just past the Snowflake Kingdom’s border. The weather change had been so marked it had been like walking through a waterfall. The countryside here splashed with abundant greenery; about them, a cacophony of tree frogs sang the night away. The horses munched on a well-earned meal.
She was relieved to be beyond the snow and mind-numbing cold. How had Stellan and his people coped with it all these years?
The weary party gathered firewood and soon had a roaring flame going. Each collapsed beside it with outstretched fingers and toes. Hunter leaned over to offer Clarysa a metal flask, which she readily accepted. Ill-tasting liquor rushed into her mouth and she coughed. But then a warm, tingly sensation spread throughout her body. She smiled demurely in thanks.
The motley crew cobbled together a sparse meal of nuts, dried meats and raw greens plucked from the edge of a nearby meadow. Strong tea brewed in a heavy pot washed everything down. Hunter explained they would only rest for a few hours. He encouraged Clarysa to sleep, and offered her a spot close by the fire.
For the first time in days, Clarysa could see the stars twinkling in a silent rhythm above her. Despite the long, hard ride, her thoughts were restless. She worried about Stellan, wondering if he was safe and if he had found help. She feared the wayward hunter who might cross his path. He wouldn’t know Stellan had been human; he would only attack. Visions of his stuffed corpse on display at the local fair flashed in her mind–the largest and most rare saberwolf. Her darling prince, reduced to nothing more than a grand prize. Clarysa shuddered.
Gretchen’s parting words echoed in her mind. “Selfish,”
