The punishing pace did not relent with the dawn. We broke camp in the grey pre-light, muscles stiff and protesting from the previous day's trial. A thin layer of frost sheathed every surface, and the air held a new, deeper bite. Kaelen's orders were fewer, his expectations now implicit. We mounted up and moved north, into the dense, silent pine forest of the foothills.
The forest was a cathedral of ancient, towering trees, their branches heavy with snow that fell in silent clumps around us. The path was little more than a game trail, forcing us into single file. The world narrowed further. The only sounds were the crunch of hooves on the frozen needle carpet, the creak of saddle leather, and the occasional distant cry of a winter hawk. The air was still and cold, thick with the scent of pine and damp earth.
