The road was calm. The wind had died down a bit, allowing the sound of hooves and the crunch of snow beneath them to fill the space like a repetitive, hypnotic music. The sun hadn't yet broken through the gray clouds, but there was a steady light, enough to reveal the white-capped pine fields on either side.
For a while, Damon allowed himself to simply ride in silence. The sensation of strength beneath the black horse still impressed him, and the bracelet on his wrist pulsed as if it were part of his skin. He caught himself touching the metal occasionally, absently, as if it called to him.
Ester rode ahead, straight and steady, never breaking stride. Her dark cloak made her an almost stern figure against the white snow.
Suddenly, she raised her hand, a dry, deliberate gesture. Damon frowned, pulling on the reins to slow his pace.
"What is it?" he asked softly.
"There's a group ahead," she said coldly, her voice thick with conviction. "Let's go slowly. Stay behind me."
