Death would at least stop the soreness in her thighs and backside from three days of riding. Her pony snorted with impatience as she led him—or rather, as he led her—through the forest of pines, spruces and hickories. Judging by the overgrown path, few people traveled between Kalindos and Asermos anymore. Twice she had been forced to double back and pick up a lost trail, and even now she wasn’t certain how far it was to the village. She only knew that the way was getting steeper.The gelding snorted again and shook his head. She let a few more inches of reins slip through her hands, hoping the slack would appease him. He quieted, but his ears continued to twitch and swivel. Worried that he sensed danger, Sura scanned their surroundings for bears and cougars, seeing nothing but birds and a few squirrels. The fat, gray rodents ignored her in their haste to bury nuts under the thick carpet of needles and leaves. It made her realize how far north and how high she’d traveled: Kalindos was already edging into autumn.She returned her focus to the ground.
