She didn’t know how long she sat there, but when she finally dried her eyes, she realized it was definitely darker outside. Startled, she jumped up. It could not be dusk already. She could not have stayed so long.

As she stepped outside, wet snowflakes struck her face. A light powdering already lay on the ground. Quickly, she pulled the plaid closer and gathered the reins of the gelding who had turned his hindquarters to the wind and hung his head. “I’m sorry,” she said, giving his neck a pat as she mounted. “There will be an extra ration of oats for you when we get home.”

As if he understood, he picked up his pace to a trot as they exited the trees into the large glen. The snow was thicker here in the open, but Mari could still faintly see the forest line on the other side. The gelding did not need any urging to head in that direction. Mari lifted the tartan over her head, pulling it close to her face so only her eyes remained uncovered, but even so, the swirling snow stung as the wind increased. She tugged on the reins, turning the horse toward the closest part of the trees she could still see. He fought for his head, but she pressed her legs firmly against his flank and he acquiesced. If they could just get inside the forest, the snow would not be so blinding and they could find the trail.

The wind began to howl in earnest, driving the snow directly into their faces. The horse hung his head and his pace slowed. Mari shielded her eyes with her hand but could see nothing but blinding white.

With no point of reference, she began to feel dizzy. They were enveloped in a thick cloud of nothingness. The horse had stopped, waiting for her instructions.

They would never make it back to the castle in this storm. The only sensible thing to do was go back to the cottage they had left in the glade, but she had no idea what direction that was.

They were completely lost.