𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ✯ 𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑒 ✓

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎

˚✶•━━━━━━•❈•━━━━━━•✶˚
𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑰𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑶𝑭
𝑫𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑷𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵
•✶•━━━━━━━━━━━━•✶•

𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 from Peter's view as he travelled by horseback over the Archenlandic landscape. The pine trees, popping up in lonely groups all around him, spread a fresh scent through the air and it was mixed with the earthy one of the churned soil as the horse's hooves thundered and cleaved through it.

The atmosphere felt thick and heavy as if rain lingered in the air, and the frisk wind gained in strength as well as it howled over the grassfields and the blades of grass waved like a green ocean.

Peter hoped that the rain would hold off for a few more hours since a muddy ground would make it harder to track Rosaleen's footsteps. At times, the trail was already hard to spot but as the mountain range grew taller, he suspected he was getting close to the place she and Lucy had been held captive.

Peter pulled at the reins of his dappled grey stallion to order it to a stop and the horse snorted softly as Peter heaved his shield a bit farther on his back before dismounting. His boots sank an inch into the moist soil and he patted his stallion's neck a few times, his gaze wandering over the landscape.

'It's alright, Atlas. Easy,' Peter muttered in a soothing tone when the horse restlessly thumped at the ground with one of his hooves. Peter crouched down, his hand still sliding over Atlas' grey fur as he did so but then he moved to lean with his underarms on his knees as he observed the tracks; the pit in his stomach ever growing.

It hadn't rained since Rosaleen had arrived at the castle and the droplets of blood could be spotted along the trail, but while Peter could usually tell by the paw-prints if an animal was wounded or not, Rosaleen's footsteps had been strong and unwavering ever since he had followed them from Cair Paravel. Her back had been whipped open but there was no sign whatsoever that she had had trouble walking to the castle, as if the brainwashing had made her unable to feel pain.

'Could her broken mind have made her forget her physical pain?' Peter wondered softly out loud, and Atlas nickered in response. Though the stallion couldn't talk, it always seemed to try to communicate with its master in a way, and Peter smiled half-heartedly before rising back to his full length. He ruffled shortly through his hair with one hand, adjusting the belt of his shield as well around his chest that was clad in a dark red woolen tunic, and he looked at the towering mountain in the distance.

Due to his many hours observing the Archenland's map, Peter still knew exactly where he was, and the mountain called Stormness Head became clearer with every passing mile. His gaze shot between the tracks and the mountain and he hummed.

'We're getting close, Atlas,' he said, turning around to grab the edges of the saddle and pulling himself upon the horse's back. He clacked with his tongue and the stallion jumped into a gallop, but Peter couldn't help but to cast a wondering look a bit further west; into the direction of where castle Anvard lay.