The snow began falling an two days after they left the estate, making most of the path invisible.
It came down in thick, lazy flakes, each one unique and indifferent, piling on the roof of the carriage, dusting Markus's shoulders, catching in the beast's fur until it shook itself with a grumpy meow. The world narrowed to shades of white and gray, the road ahead, the skeletal trees on either side, the pale sky that pressed down like a lid.
Kaelen watched it through the window, his breath fogging the glass, the bond humming a low, steady rhythm in his chest. He had expected the distance to weaken it. Instead, the thread between them seemed to sharpen, each mile a refinement, each hour a deeper awareness of the space where Lysander was not. He had gone ahead with the knights to clear the path for them and Kaelen had a huge issue it was like his whole body was uncomfortable, any noice made him flinch or snap.
