The storm had finally begun to weaken. The heavy, blinding sheets of snow tapered off into a thin, drifting powder, and the wind lost the sharp howl that had filled the high pass for days. It was not enough to reveal the cold stars above, nor was it enough to make travel through the mountain gaps safe, but the sudden change allowed the riders to see more than a few yards ahead.
The leader of the vanguard unit considered the break in the weather a blessing. The child did not.
Diana sat perfectly silent in front of him on the saddle pommel, her small frame wrapped tightly in the rough wool blanket. She had not spoken a single word since they left the blood-stained clearing where the skirmish took place. She had remained quiet during the frantic ride, quiet after the rescue of the other children.
