Of Caverns and Casters ✓ [TLRQ #1]

Chapter 15 - Leavi

It snows steadily, sky dropping wet, slushy flakes that melt and drench us as soon as they hit our clothes. I'd rather have rain. At least that wouldn't have an icy bite as it struck our skin, like the stings of tiny vindictive insects.

I'm not the only one who's miserable. Between the narrow pass walls, women and children trudge through the mud, their frowns bundled beneath an assortment of fur scraps, woven blankets, and colorful rags. It doesn't matter, though; it's barely noon, and the snow has already soaked through their hodge-podge defenses. Ahead, the men seem fine, most of them riding, all of them in sturdy shoes and heavy fur coats.

I turn to Sean to see if he's noticed the disparity, but his gaze is on a metal trinket he's pulled from his pocket. He turns a knob on the side, frowns, and continues fiddling with it. I shake my head, deciding not to bother him. He'd probably just say something like, "I already told you it'd be like that," and that would be the end of the conversation.

As we walk, the wall to my right drops away, and I gasp. Every single stinging snowflake suddenly becomes worth this view. Far below, a thick forest sprawls, dusted with white flakes and kissed by silver ice. In the open sky, the snow spins and twirls like airy dancers in practiced concert. It's ancient and magical, something straight out of a storybook illustration.

From behind, someone taps my elbow. I shake back to reality and realize the group ahead has moved on while I was standing entranced. I glance back, looking for whoever wanted my attention. A little girl, no older than seven, stands there, scraps of cloth serving as her poor excuse for a coat. Her tangled blonde curls frame an angular face, a streak of dirt swiping her forehead.

I kneel in front of her, nearly blocking the narrow path. Stones scrape against the ground where people begin to shift impatiently, but surprisingly, no one moves to prod the girl forward or take her hand and pull her along. I glance at the jagged line of people, but no attentive eyes claim her. Rather, each woman's irritated stance and disinterested attitude say that the girl is someone else's problem.

My gaze flicks back to her, and she stands there wide-eyed. She probably tapped me as a cautious reminder to keep moving, not out of any expectation of attention. No. I doubt she gets much of that.

"Where are your parents, sweetie?" I have a feeling I already know the answer, but the question passes my lips anyway.

Her head tilts, not understanding, and I suddenly remember that no one here speaks my language.

In the waiting crowd, someone calls out impatiently. I cast a look over my shoulder and see the rest of the group getting farther and farther away. About thirty feet from us, Sean's finally realized I stopped and has turned around to catch back up with me.

As I return my focus on the girl, I realize that people have started trickling through the five-foot gap between me and the precipice. The girl fidgets nervously, but her curious eyes remain on me, probably wondering why I'm still here. I shrug my jacket off, trying to hurry so that we don't get any further behind. Her already wide eyes turn into miniature moons as I press the fabric into her hand.