The Toils (Book One)

XV. The Trial

FORTY-EIGHT HOURS AGO

"Be safe out there", Harreina released Toff from a tight grasp.
"Thank you, Harreina", Thatcher shook her hand, taking in the last warmth of the fire before they pushed outside into the cold once more. 
Harreina nodded - "thank you, also. Both of you", she tossed glances in both Ruataupare and Thatchers' directions.
They left the log cabin, following Toff through the ever-thickening snow out to a nearby, rundown, auditorium where the twelve hundred soldiers and their horses waited patiently for them. 
With Toff, Ruataupare, Thatcher, and Lobard leading them toward the road, the snake of people rode out of the shelter of the dimly lit auditorium, and out onto the roadway.
Immediately, the five dozen torches distributed throughout the crowd were blown out by the wind, leaving the soldiers holding them gripping naught more than charred sticks.
The synchronized hooves rhythmically trolloped against the firm, icy soil.

While the start of the trip seemed to go by breezily, in the fourth-hour calls of collapsing horses made their way from the tail of the snake of people up toward the head.
The blizzard grew stronger, chilling Thatcher to her bones.
"KEEP MOVING!", Lobard shouted over Toff Bauman's shoulder, commanding Thatcher and Ruataupare.
"THE OTHERS!", Thatcher shouted back.
"THEY'LL BE FINE, JUST MOVE!", Lobard returned, covering his face with a sleeve to keep a degree of warmth.
"THEIR HORSES ARE COLLAPSING UNDER THEM, MAN, WE NEED TO GET TO SHELTER!", Toff argued. 
"HE'S RIGHT!", Ruataupare chimed in, "THREE TO ONE, WE GET TO SHELTER!".
Toff wore a look of smug satisfaction as his face bore the brunt of the screaming wind growing stronger with each gust.
Lobard, annoyed, reluctantly agreed - "WHERE ARE WE FINDING SHELTER OUT HERE?", he asked, glancing around at the frozen, grassy, tundra surrounding them. 
None of them could quite get their bearings beyond the nearly invisible path below their feet, a path they'd blindly followed for the two hours and a bit. 
"NORTHEAST", Toff shouted, "THERE'S A VILLAGE WITH MORE BUILDINGS THAN PEOPLE!".
Making room between them, the four horses in front of him moved to allow Toff and his second through.
"How far ahead?", Thatcher leaned over her horse and spoke loudly into Toffs' ear.
"About three hours, minimum", Toff swallowed, fearfully glancing into the blustering winterland surrounding them in all directions - he hoped he was leading them the right way. 
"And you're sure there's nothing closer?", Thatcher sniffed, pulling her coat a little tighter.
"No. It's four hours back to home and another three to the village", Toff felt his stomach growing heavy with nerves.
"We really wanna go deviating off the path?", Thatcher double-checked, looking to her right to Ruataupare.
"Yeah, these horses are already dying, it's three hours to the village, seven to Pa", Ruataupare looked ahead to Toff, then back to Thatcher. 
"Okay!", Thatcher resolved.
"WE GOIN' OR WHAT?", Lobard called up, prompting Toff to lead the way.
All in all, eight horses had collapsed, leaving sixteen Zedeylian soldiers without a ride. 
Together they disappeared into the thick white snow, the midnight darkness swallowing them whole. 

One-by-one over the next three hours, their horses fell - pulled out of the race by the deadly one-two punch of persistence and cold.
With more than half their horses and at least seventy five men lost to the blizzard, the group finally made it into the village more than six hours later.
With bitterness, Thatcher, Ruataupare, Toff and his second pulled into a small, dilapidated, house. None of their horses had made it and the ones that did had been secured inside a grouping of tin-shed barns just outside the city.
Making sure the soldiers that made it we're set-up in their own ramshackle dwellings, the leaders (minus Lobard, who opted to sleep outside with both the horses and food supply) settled inside the draughty building.
The walls swayed with the wind, giving Thatcher chills up her spine as she imagined the walls toppling over them. 
So bitingly cold the house was, none of them could manage to light a fire in the crumbling stone fireplace in the living room. 
Though it was now six in the morning, neither wind nor snow had abated.
It wasn't until nine, three more hours of listening to gale force winds, that the quartet managed to finally doze to sleep. 

At sundown Lobard made a quick round of the occupied dwellings in the small village, passing out a tiny morsel of food to sustain them all throughout their stay.
Entering the cabin, Lobard passed out a half slice of bread to everyone in the cabin.
"You've fed our people?", Toff asked Lobard skeptically.
"Aye, but that's come out of your food".
"I'd expect none less", Toff shook his head and chewed a hunk from his bread.
It seemed as though, even if no one expressed it aloud, they all agreed on not leaving before the snow eased up.
By midnight that night, Thatcher started to believe it would never ease up. The only upshot was that the wind had eased up enough for Ruataupare to get a fire going. 
With Toff and his second asleep, Thatcher and Ruataupare had a moment to themselves.
"I know we've had our disagreements, but I wanted to thank you", Thatcher broke her silence after a minute or two. 
"You've thanked me before", Ruataupare responded.
"Yeah...", Thatcher squeaked, "...Nah. Just from the beginning, y'know, taking us in".
Ruataupare sensed Thatcher wanted to continue and so elected not to speak.
"I just - Y'know I always had this in me, this want to be better. Uh... but I worked within a group of people who didn't worry about much more than what they were eating for breakfast. I slipped into that same mindset, right? Between you and Magnus I - uh... Y'know I don't know where I'd be".
Ruataupare scuffled on her butt across the floor, past the fire, and pulled Thatcher into a hug. 
She needn't say anything, they both felt it.