Page 245 of The Sun He Buried

I let the mare run.

Wind strikes the mask. The runes burn brighter with every pull from the bond.

Solveih is ahead.

There.

Always there.

Baldr keeps pace.

Ketill’s riders remain behind us. Their horns haven’t sounded.

Snowpetal reaches the first marker and stumbles.

I slow long enough to lean down.

She snaps at my glove.

“Save it.”

Her second attempt catches leather.

I lift her by the loose skin behind her shoulders and bring her onto the saddle.

The mare tosses her head. I shorten the reins and keep one hand on her neck until she remembers the road.

Snowpetal claws her way up my coat and settles against my chest.

Blood warms the wool.

Her eyes stay on the road.

“Sensible creature.”

She bites the edge of the mask.

Baldr makes one sound that may be a laugh.

I look at him and the sound ends.

Better.

We pass the last ridge marker.

The road drops into denser pine. Snowpetal’s body stiffens against me.

The bond yanks left.

I pull the mare off the cleared path.

Baldr follows for four strides, then looks back toward the road.

“There’s no tracks here.”

“There will be.”

“How far?”