Old foreman Kovyrian and white-haired Roger hid in the pine forest along the lake shore, watching the firelight in the city grow increasingly blinding.
Although the Baron had repeatedly instructed them to keep an eye on the sled dogs and the ice sled, anyone with a brain could see through it: What dogs? What sled? Did the Baron really plan to go back to the hotel for a nap?
The truth was that the Baron couldn't spare any men to watch over the two of them, and he had hastily concocted a reason to stabilize Kovyrian and Roger.
The lake was dead silent, and there was not a soul on the shore - there was no better opportunity to escape than now.
White-haired Roger had thought about escaping several times, but each time he glimpsed the hunched silhouette and the slight trembling of his uncle's fingers, he couldn't bring himself to do it.
Hesitating, time ticked away by the second.
