Page 40 of Heart of Winter
It was oddly reassuring, even if Oliver was convinced they’d all freeze to death before the night was through.
But then–
A distant shout.
Erik threw up a hand, and all of them halted.
Oliver held his breath.
“…hullo?”
Erik jerked up straighter in his saddle, startling his horse, who snorted. He cupped both hands around his mouth, and shouted, “Leif!”
A long pause. And then, closer, clearer: “Uncle!”
Erik spurred his horse into a trot, taking off past Bjorn, out of the torchlight.
“Ah, bollocks,” Bjorn muttered, and put heels into his own mount.
Oliver’s horse hurried to follow, and the huge, swooping stride of the gigantic horse was nothing like his own fleet-footed mare. He gritted his teeth, gripped the reins tight, and stood in his stirrups to keep from being bounced right out of the saddle.
They trotted up a low rise, and when the ground leveled, Bjorn reined up. Oliver’s horse halted beside it, and in the torchlight, he saw that Erik had dismounted, and had his elder nephew by both shoulders, inspecting him critically.
Leif had scratches on his cheeks, and his cloak looked heavy and wet, dragging at him; his face was etched with fatigue, but he was saying, “I’m fine, I’m fine. I managed to stay seated.” He stood now at his horse’s shoulder, and Hilda the maid, rumpled, her hair coming unbraided, sat in the saddle. There was a thick bundle behind her, and when Oliver saw the fur, his heart leaped, thinking of Tessa’s cloak – but then he saw the dead gleam of an eye, and a lolling pink tongue, and he realized what was tied behind the saddle: wolves. At least four of them. Dead.
“We didn’t know we were being tracked,” Leif said. “We were riding along, and there was a stag. Rune was in the lead, and he took out his bow. The wind changed, and then…” He gulped audibly as he swallowed, and wiped his nose with the back of his glove. For all that he was big, and strong, he was still painfully young, Oliver was reminded. His voice quavered with the regret and uncertainty of youth. “I’m sorry, I should have been more watchful, I should have seen–”
Erik’s hands flexed as he squeezed the boy’s shoulders. “Hush. You couldn’t have known. Wolves are silent when they want to be. They know how to stay downwind.”
Leif didn’t look convinced.
“Where’s your brother? And Tessa?”
“We’ve been searching for them. But I don’t–” His voice caught, and he didn’t continue.
“We’ll find them.” Erik laid a hand along his cheek, briefly, in encouragement. Then lifted his gaze. “Hilda, we found your horse. Are you all right?”
In a watery voice, she said, “I’m fine, your majesty, only twisted my ankle like a complete ninny.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “It’s Lady Tessa I’m worried about. Oh, the poor dear, she must be so frightened – and the wolves–”
“Hilda,” Erik said, patiently. “It will be fine.” To Leif: “Mount up, and we’ll keep looking.”
Leif swung onto Hilda’s horse, and they were off again.
Oliver stole another glance at the dead wolves. “How did you kill them?”
“My sword,” Leif said, distractedly, without a hint of pride. His gaze scanned back and forth across the dark forest, searching.
“They’re getting bolder,” Magnus said, from behind, and Oliver twisted around in his saddle to look at him. “The wolves,” he explained. “Sure, they’re hungrier once winter’s good and set in, but it’s rare they’ll attack a man on a horse – much less a party of four horses. Things are changing, though.”
“Changing how?”
Magnus shrugged. “There’s rumblings. Things being different. Things moving.”
Oliver frowned. “What?”
“Up ahead,” Erik said.
Oliver turned back around, and caught a faint gleam in the distance. It disappeared between one tree trunk and the next.
