The silence was heavy as the two of them walked along the dirt road covered in snow and blood.
The wind blew low, whistling through the twisted trees. Damon walked a few paces behind Ester, his spear resting on his shoulder, his body still trembling from the brutal discharge of energy he had endured.
The ground crackled beneath their boots, the red-tinged snow crunching like ground bones.
For long minutes, only their footsteps filled the void.
Damon finally spoke, his voice still hoarse:
"And the horses?" he asked, looking around uneasily. "Aren't we going back to the road with them? The carriage…"
Ester didn't stop. Didn't look back. She simply answered, as if it were obvious:
"Look."
Damon frowned, turning.
