to a stop, hindquarters bunched. White ringed its eyes.
Coryn clambered down to Dancer and gathered up the reins. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, stroking the horse’s hide. The horse quivered under his touch. He felt the animal’s fear as a battering wave. The more he reassured the horse, the more calm he himself felt.
Rain came down in a torrent, making it impossible to see more than a few feet. Wind blew steadily, driving the droplets deeper into the folds of Coryn’s cloak. Step by agonizing step, Coryn led the horse up the slope to where his pack chervine stood, shaking its antlered head to send sprays of water in all directions.
“No point in going on,” Rafe said as he brought his own two animals level with Coryn. “Stop now, wait it out.”
Rafe was right. It would take hours to work their way to the top of the rockfall and find some way across. Even then, they might find themselves in exactly the same situation without adequate shelter, only wetter and more exhausted.
Rafe, not waiting for a reply, moved toward the rocky barrier. This close, the barrier gave a slight but perceptible shelter from the wind.
“There!” Rafe said.
Coryn couldn’t see what the old soldier pointed to, but as they approached, he made out a rough overhang where a huge flat shard extended like a tabletop beyond its supporting boulders. It was barely deep enough for the two of them, but the ground underneath looked relatively dry.
“Saddlebags—there. Blankets—there.” In a few terse commands, Rafe organized the little shelter. “In!” He half-pushed Coryn to the back of the overhang. “Out of those clothes!”
“But—” Coryn bit off his protest. His shirt and vest were soaked to the skin, and now that he was no longer climbing, chill seeped through. It was better here, out of the wind, but not much. Even as a child, he knew wet clothes would steal body heat even when the outside temperature wasn’t that cold.
He set aside his cloak, which was thick enough to be dry on the inside. Shaking, he tugged off his boots and wet clothing. A sudden gust cut across his bare skin like a knife edge. The next moment, Rafe shoved a bundle into his hands—his winter-weight shirt and pants of soft thick wool, which Rafe had somehow dug out from the bottom of the chervine’s pack.
By the time Coryn had pulled on his dry clothes, Rafe crawled in beside him and forced the chervine to lie down, its body blocking the worst of the wind. The horses, tethered close to the opening, assumed postures of sullen endurance with their heads down and tails clamped against their rumps.
Thunder sounded again, shivering through the rockfall. Coryn couldn’t tell its direction. The rain redoubled its strength; the sound shifted to a harsher note.
Hail.
Coryn caught a glimpse of the pellets of ice over the chervine’s shoulder. He began to shiver again.
“Ah, there,” Rafe said gently, drawing his own blankets around Coryn.
A sudden deafening noise, louder than thunder, jolted Coryn. His eyes focused on gray light outside. The din increased, as if some giant were slamming boulders into the hillside above them.
Rafe sat bolt upright, grabbing for the chervine’s reins. The animal let out a terrified bleat as it struggled to rise. Rafe grabbed the chervine’s head, using it as a lever to force the animal back down, on to its side.
Coryn caught a glimpse of rocks pelting down the hillside. Their impact quivered through the boulders around him, through the very earth itself. Rain sleeted, now straight down, now gusting to spray his face with half-frozen droplets.
The outer edge of the overhang splintered with a resounding crack! One of the horses screamed, suddenly cut off. Coryn flinched and gathered his feet under him. Every fiber in his body shrilled to get out now!
As Coryn scrambled for the opening, Rafe reached out with his free arm and grabbed the neck edge of his cloak. Coryn spun around under the power of the older man’s
Coryn clambered down to Dancer and gathered up the reins. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, stroking the horse’s hide. The horse quivered under his touch. He felt the animal’s fear as a battering wave. The more he reassured the horse, the more calm he himself felt.
Rain came down in a torrent, making it impossible to see more than a few feet. Wind blew steadily, driving the droplets deeper into the folds of Coryn’s cloak. Step by agonizing step, Coryn led the horse up the slope to where his pack chervine stood, shaking its antlered head to send sprays of water in all directions.
“No point in going on,” Rafe said as he brought his own two animals level with Coryn. “Stop now, wait it out.”
Rafe was right. It would take hours to work their way to the top of the rockfall and find some way across. Even then, they might find themselves in exactly the same situation without adequate shelter, only wetter and more exhausted.
Rafe, not waiting for a reply, moved toward the rocky barrier. This close, the barrier gave a slight but perceptible shelter from the wind.
“There!” Rafe said.
Coryn couldn’t see what the old soldier pointed to, but as they approached, he made out a rough overhang where a huge flat shard extended like a tabletop beyond its supporting boulders. It was barely deep enough for the two of them, but the ground underneath looked relatively dry.
“Saddlebags—there. Blankets—there.” In a few terse commands, Rafe organized the little shelter. “In!” He half-pushed Coryn to the back of the overhang. “Out of those clothes!”
“But—” Coryn bit off his protest. His shirt and vest were soaked to the skin, and now that he was no longer climbing, chill seeped through. It was better here, out of the wind, but not much. Even as a child, he knew wet clothes would steal body heat even when the outside temperature wasn’t that cold.
He set aside his cloak, which was thick enough to be dry on the inside. Shaking, he tugged off his boots and wet clothing. A sudden gust cut across his bare skin like a knife edge. The next moment, Rafe shoved a bundle into his hands—his winter-weight shirt and pants of soft thick wool, which Rafe had somehow dug out from the bottom of the chervine’s pack.
By the time Coryn had pulled on his dry clothes, Rafe crawled in beside him and forced the chervine to lie down, its body blocking the worst of the wind. The horses, tethered close to the opening, assumed postures of sullen endurance with their heads down and tails clamped against their rumps.
Thunder sounded again, shivering through the rockfall. Coryn couldn’t tell its direction. The rain redoubled its strength; the sound shifted to a harsher note.
Hail.
Coryn caught a glimpse of the pellets of ice over the chervine’s shoulder. He began to shiver again.
“Ah, there,” Rafe said gently, drawing his own blankets around Coryn.
A sudden deafening noise, louder than thunder, jolted Coryn. His eyes focused on gray light outside. The din increased, as if some giant were slamming boulders into the hillside above them.
Rafe sat bolt upright, grabbing for the chervine’s reins. The animal let out a terrified bleat as it struggled to rise. Rafe grabbed the chervine’s head, using it as a lever to force the animal back down, on to its side.
Coryn caught a glimpse of rocks pelting down the hillside. Their impact quivered through the boulders around him, through the very earth itself. Rain sleeted, now straight down, now gusting to spray his face with half-frozen droplets.
The outer edge of the overhang splintered with a resounding crack! One of the horses screamed, suddenly cut off. Coryn flinched and gathered his feet under him. Every fiber in his body shrilled to get out now!
As Coryn scrambled for the opening, Rafe reached out with his free arm and grabbed the neck edge of his cloak. Coryn spun around under the power of the older man’s
Similar Books
