The trail into the dead mountains was narrower than I remembered. Snow had drifted high against the black rock, and the wind howled through the passes like it was trying to push us back. My horse snorted steam probably from exhaustion, it's ears pinned flat focusing on the road. I rode in the middle exactly like I promised, hand on my belly the whole time. The flutter in my belly was constant now, small kicks that felt more urgent with every mile.
Darius rode on my left, his ice-blue eyes scanning the cliffs. Kane stayed on my right, knife ready, storm-gray stare never leaving the trail ahead. Rylan scouted a few lengths in front, axe across his saddle, but every few minutes he'd glance back at me like he expected the witch to appear out of the snow.
The wind howled through the dead mountains like it wanted us gone. Snow fell harder now, thick flakes sticking to my lashes and melting down my neck.
