Page 6

I haven't. Not even close. But it sounds good, so I keep saying it.

My cloak is soaked straight through. It's frozen stiff at the hem and slapping against my legs with every gust. My fingers went numb hours ago, and now I can barely feel the strap of my bag. I have to keep looking down to make sure I'm still holding it.

And then there's the heat.

You'd think freezing half to death would put a stop to it. You'd be wrong. Every so often, a wave of warmth rolls up from my belly and spreads through me, and for a few blissful heartbeats, I'm almost comfortable. Then it drains away and leaves me shaking so hard my teeth knock together.

Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold.

My body can't make up its mind, and I'm stuck along for the ride.

"Fantastic," I mutter. "Truly. Thank you, gods. Excellent timing."

The gods don't answer. They're probably laughing.

I keep my eyes on the trail. Or what I think is the trail. A while ago, it was a narrow path winding between the trees, easy enough to follow. Then the snow covered it. Then the landmarks went too. The split boulder I always use to know I'm halfway. The crooked pine that leans out over the ravine. Gone, swallowed up in white.

I'm walking on memory now. And my memory is getting fuzzy.

A small, nasty voice in the back of my head has been talking for the last hour or so. It says I should've waited. It says I should've thought this through. It says that I was so busy running from Silas that I never stopped to think about what the mountains might do to a woman alone in a winter storm.

I tell the voice to shut up.

It doesn't.

Finally, my legs simply refuse to go any farther. I stop, bent over, hands on my knees, and try to catch my breath. The cold air burns going down. When I straighten up and look around, I wait for something familiar to jump out at me.

Nothing does.

Trees. Rocks. Snow.

More trees. More rocks. More snow.

Every direction looks exactly the same. The light is going too, the gray sky turning darker and darker, until the world is just white and shadows.

"No," I whisper. "No, no, no."

I turn around and try to follow my footprints back. There aren't any. The wind has already smoothed them over like I was never here at all.

My heart starts to pound.

I turn in a slow circle. Then another. I'm looking for anything. A rock I recognize. A bend in a tree. A scrap of the path. Something.

There's nothing.

I'm lost.

The word sits in my stomach like a stone. I've never been lost in my life. I've walked these mountains for herbs since I was old enough to carry a basket. I know them.

But I don't know this.

Fear makes people careless. That's what my aunt always said. She'd say it whenever I was rushing, or crying, or about to do something stupid because I was scared. Fear makes people careless, Elara. Stop. Think.

So I stop. I try to think.

It's hard. My thoughts feel thick, like they're wading through the same snow I am. My legs ache up into my hips. My lungs burn. And my feet...

I wiggle my toes inside my boots. At least, I try to. I can't tell if they move.