Dark Snow

Chapter 4: The Woods

Lucas stood at the threshold of Blueriver. The familiar scents of the forge and fresh sourdough lingered faintly behind him. He had faced this with every town he visited — a quiet goodbye. Staring at the horse John had provided from the stables, a sturdy, older creature with stout, muscular legs and a long brown mane, he shifted his feet and took one last look at the modest village. John and Mia stood there to see him off, with Grayson beside them. The wolf-dog's intense, beautiful eyes met his, unsettling in their silent gaze.

"Well, son. Best be off, then," John's deep, rough voice broke the trance. "Need any help?"

Lucas shook his head gently. "I've trained horses before... that's how Sebastian—how my brother and I made money in the beginning." He tugged his gloves tighter and, with a slightly awkward motion from lack of practice, mounted the horse. "What's her name?"

"Her name is Summer. Ironic, eh?"

"Yeah..." Lucas managed a weak smile, then sighed. "Thank you. For everything."

John simply nodded; his expression unreadable. Lucas turned to Mia, who stood with her arms crossed, her face neutral, cheeks rosy from the cold.

"You too," he offered softly.

Mia did not respond.

"It was worth a try..." he muttered, giving a small wave with his gloved hand. He tapped his foot against Summer's side, and the horse began to trot forward. Adjusting the bag of supplies John had given him more comfortably over his shoulder, he quickly entered the woods. Even at Summer's gentle pace, it was much faster than traveling on foot.

The forest soon enveloped them, not as oppressive as others Lucas had traveled through, but magnificent in its own way. The pines spiked upward in near-perfect triangles, and snow clung to the branches with stubborn ease, ready to plop to the ground with the slightest nudge. Above, the sky twisted with light gray clouds, something the man tried to ignore.

As they moved deeper, the trees grew closer together, forcing Summer to slow her pace and Lucas to duck beneath low-hanging branches. A horse was not exactly practical in this region, yet he would need her once they were in the plains. Regardless, her warmth seeped through the saddle, and her steady, rhythmic breathing beneath him was almost calming.

An hour passed, with Lucas now wearing his mask, leaving only his eyes exposed. Flakes of snow began falling again, as if the world's tears were so heavy they could no longer be held back. Summer snorted, her breath visible in the frigid air, and refused to move any further. "Alright, girl," Lucas murmured, brushing a hand along her snowy mane. He dismounted, landing heavily in the thick snow with a dull thump.

He looked around; everything was the same, an endless sea of trees and frozen earth. Nature had a way of disorienting him, blending into an indistinguishable expanse.

With a determined pull, Lucas unsheathed his dagger, its blade letting out a sharp, echoing shriek. His eyes studied its intricate details: the blue, inscribed symbols along the metal, its curved design, the dark gray sheen of its polymer surface.

"Well?" he whispered, his grip tightening on the handle.

Then, like a breath carried on a thousand voices, the dagger spoke. Chepstow, it whispered, the sound soft and harmonious.

"Chepstow..." he repeated, testing the word on his tongue. He glanced around, then slid the dagger back into its sheath and reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. Unfolding the tan, weathered map of Ellgrick, he traced his finger along it, pausing as he found his mark. "A town... southwest." Snowflakes melted against the paper, leaving small spots of wetness. Lucas shook the map off and folded it away, "...Dammit Sebastian. What'd you do now?"