anyone else. Your heart has never been uprooted from where it was content and joyful and asked to thrive in a cold, foreign country. When you have felt an attachment as I have, then maybe you will understand what it is like to have it torn away!”
The Chalaine could bear no more, choking back a hundred explanations and chastisements Fenna had no power to understand or profit from. Without a word she rose, strolling slowly around the trees until those majestic views which were said to inspire dreams faded into fog and shadow.
Chapter 52 – Hunted
Stirring in the camp snapped the Chalaine out of a blissfully dreamless sleep just before Dason stooped to wake her, and when she woke, she needed no explanation for the hurried movements. Somewhere in the forest behind them the Uyumaak thumped their chests and beat sticks against trunks, familiar sounds introduced to her during the last days of the doomed caravan. The rhythmic pattering struck fear into her heart, and she nearly forgot to collect her bedroll before moving to the horse that Kimdan finished saddling as she approached.
Dawn struggled to make its presence known. Fog clumped thickly about them, blinding their eyes, dampening their cloaks, and matting their hair. Mirelle grabbed her daughter’s hand briefly as she walked by, Cadaen seeing to her horse. Chertanne was already astride his mount, head darting about at every sound. The Chalaine checked the animon as she waited for the rest of the company to mount. Gen yet lived. What comfort this brought was short-lived.
“We ride fast,” Maewen informed them, signaling for everyone to come close. “They have our trail and likely know exactly where we are going. It will be easy to get separated in this fog. Keep to the path. If you do lose your way, ride in widening circles until you find the road. Keep the sun and the mountains to your left. The fog should clear by midmorning. Ride hard!”
They started slowly until they were sure everyone was on the trail. After a quick glance over her shoulder, Maewen spurred to a gallop, dark hair streaming behind her. The Chalaine rode just behind the half-elf and Chertanne, the soldiers bringing up the rear. While Maewen had described the fog as a blanket, it was a ragged one, clarity and blinding obscurity alternating in irregular succession. They rode single file down a road as wide as a man is high, pushing the horses to the limit to gain time and distance.
Maewen reined the party in as they ascended a slight rise into a clearing in the fog. She rode around, counting to make sure no one had drifted away. The Chalaine patted her horse as steam shot from its nostrils. The thumping Uyumaak still dogged them, sounding uncomfortably close.
Maewen frowned. “We should have put some distance between us with that run. They have elements out here on this plain. We need to get somewhere high and more defensible. The fog works to their advantage—they can smell us but we can’t see them. Stay close. We will leave the road.”
Again they streaked forward, pounding hard down the stone path before them, the sun breaking above the horizon to their right, casting diffuse light through the mist. The Chalaine’s heart pounded, wetness matting her veil to her face and hampering her vision as she struggled to keep Maewen in view. A sinking dread took hold of her.
We’re not going to get off this shard.
Thumping behind her and to the right startled her by its nearness.
“They are a hundred yards behind us!” Maewen yelled. “Break left now!” As one, the horses plunged off of the road, mud and grass flipping off their swift hooves. The Chalaine hung onto the reins as they ascended a steep hill she hadn’t seen, the riders in front of her fading in and out of the fog. Abruptly they emerged into the weak morning sunshine, cresting a hill with a narrow top of knee-high, thick-bladed grass just starting to brown. Before her stretched a sea of misty white interrupted by
The Chalaine could bear no more, choking back a hundred explanations and chastisements Fenna had no power to understand or profit from. Without a word she rose, strolling slowly around the trees until those majestic views which were said to inspire dreams faded into fog and shadow.
Chapter 52 – Hunted
Stirring in the camp snapped the Chalaine out of a blissfully dreamless sleep just before Dason stooped to wake her, and when she woke, she needed no explanation for the hurried movements. Somewhere in the forest behind them the Uyumaak thumped their chests and beat sticks against trunks, familiar sounds introduced to her during the last days of the doomed caravan. The rhythmic pattering struck fear into her heart, and she nearly forgot to collect her bedroll before moving to the horse that Kimdan finished saddling as she approached.
Dawn struggled to make its presence known. Fog clumped thickly about them, blinding their eyes, dampening their cloaks, and matting their hair. Mirelle grabbed her daughter’s hand briefly as she walked by, Cadaen seeing to her horse. Chertanne was already astride his mount, head darting about at every sound. The Chalaine checked the animon as she waited for the rest of the company to mount. Gen yet lived. What comfort this brought was short-lived.
“We ride fast,” Maewen informed them, signaling for everyone to come close. “They have our trail and likely know exactly where we are going. It will be easy to get separated in this fog. Keep to the path. If you do lose your way, ride in widening circles until you find the road. Keep the sun and the mountains to your left. The fog should clear by midmorning. Ride hard!”
They started slowly until they were sure everyone was on the trail. After a quick glance over her shoulder, Maewen spurred to a gallop, dark hair streaming behind her. The Chalaine rode just behind the half-elf and Chertanne, the soldiers bringing up the rear. While Maewen had described the fog as a blanket, it was a ragged one, clarity and blinding obscurity alternating in irregular succession. They rode single file down a road as wide as a man is high, pushing the horses to the limit to gain time and distance.
Maewen reined the party in as they ascended a slight rise into a clearing in the fog. She rode around, counting to make sure no one had drifted away. The Chalaine patted her horse as steam shot from its nostrils. The thumping Uyumaak still dogged them, sounding uncomfortably close.
Maewen frowned. “We should have put some distance between us with that run. They have elements out here on this plain. We need to get somewhere high and more defensible. The fog works to their advantage—they can smell us but we can’t see them. Stay close. We will leave the road.”
Again they streaked forward, pounding hard down the stone path before them, the sun breaking above the horizon to their right, casting diffuse light through the mist. The Chalaine’s heart pounded, wetness matting her veil to her face and hampering her vision as she struggled to keep Maewen in view. A sinking dread took hold of her.
We’re not going to get off this shard.
Thumping behind her and to the right startled her by its nearness.
“They are a hundred yards behind us!” Maewen yelled. “Break left now!” As one, the horses plunged off of the road, mud and grass flipping off their swift hooves. The Chalaine hung onto the reins as they ascended a steep hill she hadn’t seen, the riders in front of her fading in and out of the fog. Abruptly they emerged into the weak morning sunshine, cresting a hill with a narrow top of knee-high, thick-bladed grass just starting to brown. Before her stretched a sea of misty white interrupted by
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