Frostwind's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Past the marker, Frostwind moved deeper into the draw. The walls narrowed, then opened. She pulled the small stone dial from her pack and tilted it to the sun. The shadow sat close to the spring line. Days, not weeks. The path forked. A tall pillar stood at the split, two worn faces staring down each branch. Both passages looked the same. Cold air pushed from both mouths. She knelt, checked tracks, found none. Wrong choice meant wasted hours she did not have. Then she saw it down the left branch: a low cairn of banded stones, red and pale and dark, stacked by careful hands. Someone had marked this way. She crossed to it and pressed her glove against the top stone. Frost antelope scat lay fresh behind it. The same animal. The same trail. She took the left passage. The walls climbed. The air bit colder, ten degrees colder still, the way the valley should feel. Behind her, the twin faces watched the empty fork. Ahead, the draw bent and kept going. One path chosen. The dial in her pocket ticked toward thaw.