The Icebound Land- Character Reaction

27

"Hal, I believe it's your turn again." Gilan handed the book to the young skirl, who took it and began reading.

THE PONY WAS WHERE ERAK HAD TOLD HER IT WOULD BE. IT stood tethered to a sapling, its hindquarters turned patiently to the icy wind that was bringing the snow clouds lower over Hallasholm. Evanlyn untied the rope bridle and the little horse came docilely along. Above their heads, the wind sighed through the pine needles, sounding like some strange inland surf as it stirred the snow-clad branches.

Horace raised an eyebrow. "Are they trying to substitute the depressing story for pretty descriptions?" Cassandra nudged his side.

Will followed her dumbly, staggering in the calf-deep snow that covered the path. Will scowled. It was hard going for Evanlyn, but even harder for the boy, exhausted and worn out as he was from weeks of hard labor with insufficient food or warmth. Soon, she knew, she should stop and find the warm clothing that Erak had said was inside the pack on the pony's back. And she'd probably need to let Will ride the pony if they were to make any distance before dawn. But, for the moment, she wanted no delay, no matter how short. All her instincts told her to continue, to put as much distance as possible between them and the Skandian township, and to do it as fast as she could. Cassandra gave vent to a little sigh.

The path wound up into the mountains and she leaned forward, into the wind, leading the pony with one hand and holding Will's icy-cold hand in the other. Together, they stumbled on, slipping on the thick snow, staggering over tree roots and rocks that were hidden beneath its smooth surface.

After half an hour's traveling, she felt the first tentative flakes of snow brushing her face as they fell. Then they were tumbling down in earnest, heavy and thick. She paused, looking at the path behind them, where their footprints were already half obscured. Erak had known it would snow heavily tonight, she thought. He had waited until his sailor's instincts had told him that all signs of their passage would be covered. For the first time since she had crept out of the Lodge's open gateway, she felt her heart lift with hope. Perhaps, after all, things would work out for them.

Will gave her a small smile. "It did," he said, and she returned the smile.

Behind her, Will stumbled and, muttering incoherently, fell to his knees in the snow. She turned to him and realized that he was shivering and blue with the cold, virtually done in. Will pursed his lips. That blasted drug, he thought. Moving to the pack slung over the pony's back, she unlaced the fastenings and rummaged inside.

There was a thick sheepskin vest, among other items, and she draped it around the shivering boy's shoulders, helping him push his arms through the armholes. He stared at her dully as she did so. He was a dumb animal, mutely accepting whatever befell him.

Cassandra winced. "That's not what I was aiming for," she said quietly. Will chuckled.

"It's alright," he told her.

She could hit him, she knew, and he would make no attempt to avoid the blow, or to strike back at her. Sadly, she contemplated him, remembering him as he had been. Erak had said he could possibly recover, although very few warmweed addicts ever got the chance. Gilan cleared his throat. Isolated in the mountains as they would be, Will was going to have every opportunity to break the vicious cycle of the drug. She prayed now that the Skandian Jarl was right, and that it was possible for an addict, deprived of warmweed, to make a full recovery.

She shoved the unresisting boy toward the pony, motioning for him to climb astride. For a moment he hesitated, then, clumsily, he hauled himself up into the saddle and sat there, swaying uncertainly, as she headed out again, following the forest pathway as it led them up into the mountains.