Aylin entered the lost river on her back.
The passage admitted one shoulder if she turned her face toward the ice and kept the wounded hand against her chest. Living amber closed above her coat. Armada frost pressed beneath her spine.
Jiang moved ahead where the gap narrowed.
His black back vanished around the first bend, then reappeared when red light shone through the bare patches in his coat. He could walk the margin. A human had to negotiate with it one rib at a time.
"Still regretting the road?" Hest called from above.
Ice muffled his voice.
"I have not reached the interesting regret yet," Aylin answered.
Valea fed the old high-root line around Aylin's forearm. It carried no magic and promised no rescue by itself. The other end crossed the red yoke at the wound mouth, where Hest had braced both feet against living bark.
Aylin's good hand pulled. Her damaged one kept the line from wandering across her throat.
Two numb fingers let it creep anyway.
