Still reeling in pain herself, Bingmei pulled the blade out and saw it was steaming with the dragon’s blood. She had just plunged it into the snow when the snow leopard padded out of the cave, panting, and growled at the reptilian corpse sprawled before them. Quion was trying to calm the baby, who lay squalling inside the basket.
Bingmei breathed out sharply, feeling the sting of the cold against her nose. Although she’d killed this one dragon, she’d done a poor job defending them all, and there was no time for her to improve. Her eyes caught a play of green light in the distance, however, and she realized it was the Woliu. The dragons had not found her yet. This one had gotten lucky. Or unlucky, as fate had it.
Nothing Quion did could calm the baby, so Bingmei staggered back into the cave. The snow leopard padded up next to her, and she reached down and stroked the beast’s soft fur.
“Thank you,” she said. The leopard couldn’t understand her words. But she still felt like she needed to say them. If not for Quion’s friend, she would have lost.
In the morning, she would begin training. She would train hard. There wasn’t room for errors and mistakes.
Quion rocked from foot to foot, holding Shixian close, still trying to hush the crying. Bingmei closed the distance and took her son, who began to quiet as soon as she pressed her cheek against his. Her temple thrummed with pain. Her side ached, and she hoped she hadn’t broken a rib.
“What was that?” Quion said worriedly.
“A dragon found us,” she answered. “It was drawn by the heat of the glyphs and smelled the roasted hare.”
“Ah. Are others coming?”
“Not yet,” Bingmei said. “But I fear they will find the dragon’s carcass once it’s light. Then they’ll know which way we are going.”
“Where are we going?” Quion asked with a smile. They’d discussed how they would escape, but not where they were going.
She was surprised to realize she had an answer. That she’d been leading their small group without realizing it. “Sihui,” she answered. “I think that’s the place we need to go. With winter ending, we have to warn General Tzu. And prepare for the war.”
The baby had stopped crying, although he still whimpered, and she could smell his primitive fear. The noises and sounds had frightened him. If he was like her, perhaps the smells had alarmed him too. She kissed his fuzzy head in a rush of fondness.
“I’ll try and cover it with snow before we leave,” Quion suggested.
“There won’t be time,” Bingmei said. “It will take a while to cover something so big. It’s too cold out there to leave now, but we need to go before dawn.” The weariness and exhaustion weighed heavily on her.
Quion nodded. “I’ll start burying it now.” He gave her a look that brooked no refusal. She was so grateful for his determination to help, to be of use to her and Shixian. He truly had an indomitable spirit. And yet, at the same time, he wasn’t a warrior, and she feared what their enemies might do to him.
Grabbing his little spade from his pack, he headed toward the entrance.
Be safe, she thought as she watched him leave the cave.
She listened for whispers from the phoenix, something that would reassure her that he would be all right. But nothing came, and that made her worry even more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Narrows
The whole world felt like it was melting. Bingmei and Quion and the baby watched as each further sunrise exposed more and more of the mountains as well as the trees. Tiny droplets of melted snow dripped from branches, making pockmarks in the white expanse. After a few days, the effort of their march drew sweat from their brows as the sun stayed up longer and longer. On the fourth day after leaving the phoenix shrine, they began to find bear tracks in the snow.
They took turns carrying Shixian’s basket. Every day, Bingmei practiced her forms, and as she did so, she felt healing currents of magic glide beneath her skin. The pains of childbirth felt increasingly distant from her mind, and she smelled her own love for her baby each time she cradled him in her arms. The little murmurs and squeals he made were a source of delight. And every time she saw him smile, even when he was fast asleep, it made her heart ache with happiness. Quion did the most ridiculous things when he tried to coax one, but his efforts were often unrewarded.
When she sensed the dragons on the hunt, they hid beneath snow-laden trees and waited for the danger to pass. Often they could see the winged shapes in the sky on the horizon or hear the creatures’ distant shrieks. The sound never failed to chill her heart.
After walking all day, they finally reached the place where the mountains converged and formed the river maze. Tufts of dried tall grass began to poke through the snows that day, and the sun grew so warm that they no longer needed their fur jackets. The river was still thick with ice, but she could see water flowing beneath the crust.
She looked at Quion and frowned. “How thick is the ice, do you think?”
“One way to find out,” he answered. “Let’s camp in that thicket over there. I’ll see if I can catch any fish.”
She set about making camp while he used his dagger to stab through the thick ice of the river. Gazing at the tall chasm of rock before her, she remembered passing through it at the end of the previous summer. They’d walked knee-deep in water through the gorge. Within, they’d found that strange silver-barked tree with the deadly butterflies.
Shixian fussed to be fed after they set up their camp. Once Bingmei
