By the third morning, Vesaria had begun to suspect that every tree in the North looked exactly alike.
She had spent another miserable night beneath an overhanging rock, and several hours of walking had brought her no closer to finding her way south.
Clouds obscured the sun, the wind had grown colder, and every promising trail seemed to end in tangled undergrowth or impassable slopes.
Her stolen boots rubbed painfully against her blistered heels, while riding offered little relief to her aching thighs and back. She briefly considered abandoning the horse, but it had carried her too far to give up now.
Besides, she had grown rather accustomed to its company, even if the creature cared more about finding grass than helping her escape.
"At least you know what you're looking for," she murmured as it lowered its head to graze.
A distant whinny interrupted her.
Vesaria seized the reins, her stomach tightening when another horse answered from somewhere nearby. She hurried behind a broad pine, pulling her mount into cover as she searched the trees.
Had Varn found her again? She had barely escaped him the previous afternoon, and this time there was no convenient rocky outcrop to conceal her.
Hooves disturbed the undergrowth. A branch cracked, followed by an impatient snort.
Then a large black stallion emerged between the trees.
Vesaria stared.
The stallion stood scarcely twenty paces away, his bridle crooked and reins trailing through the leaves. Azgar's horse. For one dreadful moment, she expected Varn to appear behind him.
She crouched lower, searching the surrounding trees, but no rider followed. The stallion stopped to investigate a patch of grass, shook his head, and continued toward her stolen horse.
Surely this was some trick. Perhaps Varn had dismounted nearby and sent the animal ahead to draw her out. She waited, barely breathing, while the two horses exchanged curious sniffs.
No one appeared.
The black stallion nudged her mount's shoulder, and the smaller animal responded with a contented snort.
Vesaria looked from one to the other in disbelief.
"Oh, no. Absolutely not."
She stepped out from behind the tree, keeping a cautious distance from the stallion. "Go away. Go back to your master."
He flicked an ear toward her before returning his attention to the other horse.
Vesaria waved her free hand. "Shoo!"
The stallion raised his head, regarding her with what she considered a thoroughly insolent expression.
"I have already stolen one horse," she informed him. "I have no intention of being hanged for stealing two."
He lowered his head to sniff her sleeve.
Vesaria retreated hastily. She remembered his snapping teeth well enough from the stables.
"Find your own way home."
She mounted with some difficulty and urged her horse onward, hoping the stallion would remain behind. Instead, he followed them between the pines, occasionally trotting ahead before stopping to investigate something beside the trail.
After the third time she turned to find him still accompanying them, Vesaria gave up pretending not to notice.
"Does your master know you're wandering about?" she asked. "I imagine he'll be very displeased."
The stallion shook his mane.
"Well, don't expect me to explain it to him."
They continued through the forest, the two horses apparently satisfied with their arrangement. Vesaria remained wary of the black animal, particularly whenever he approached too closely, but he seemed less hostile away from the stables.
That changed when his trailing reins caught around a fallen branch.
The stallion jerked his head, pulling the leather taut, then backed away with an irritated snort. Vesaria watched him struggle for several moments, hoping he might free himself.
Instead, he pulled harder.
"Oh, for heaven's sake."
She dismounted and approached cautiously, speaking in the soothing voice she had once heard her father's stablemaster use with difficult horses.
"Easy. I'm only trying to help."
The stallion flattened his ears when she reached toward his bridle, and Vesaria withdrew her hand.
"Very well. Strangle yourself, then."
She returned to her own horse, but another violent tug made her turn around. The black stallion had twisted the reins around the branch, leaving himself even less room to move.
Vesaria sighed and approached again, this time keeping to his side rather than standing directly before him. She waited until he stopped pulling, then carefully worked the leather free from the wood.
"There," she said, stepping away. "You might at least pretend to be grateful."
He walked past her without so much as a glance.
Vesaria stared after him, offended despite herself.
By midday, she had grown accustomed to hearing his heavier footsteps behind them. She stopped beneath a sheltered stand of pines to eat another portion of her dwindling provisions, and the stallion approached while she was examining the last of her oatcakes.
He stretched his neck toward her hand.
Vesaria considered offering him a piece, then looked at the small amount remaining.
"Certainly not. You look better fed than I am."
He sniffed her fingers anyway, his warm breath brushing her skin. When he made no attempt to bite, she cautiously touched his neck.
His coat was surprisingly warm beneath her palm. She stroked him once, then again, before he turned away to investigate the other horse.
"Charming," she murmured.
Still, when they resumed travelling, she found herself looking back occasionally to make certain he was following.
The afternoon brought a sharper wind and a sky heavy with grey clouds. Vesaria had begun searching for somewhere to shelter when the trees opened onto a shallow crossing.
A stream ran between low banks, its surface covered by a thin sheet of ice beneath fresh snow. Beyond it, the ground rose gently into a stretch of woodland that appeared easier to traverse.
She studied the crossing with relief. Following the stream would mean another lengthy detour, and her feet were already aching.
"Come along," she told her horse, leading it toward the bank.
The animal stopped.
Vesaria tugged gently, but it refused to step forward. Behind them, the black stallion approached the water, lowered his head, and immediately backed away.
"Oh, don't you start."
She examined the ice. Snow concealed much of its surface, but the edges looked solid, and the stream appeared shallow enough that she could see stones beneath the clearer patches.
Surely it would hold her weight.
She stepped onto it cautiously.
The surface gave a faint creak beneath her boot.
Vesaria stopped, listening, then shifted her weight forward. A second crack sounded, sharper than the first, and a dark line spread across the ice.
She tried to step backward.
The surface broke beneath her right foot.
Freezing water swallowed her leg to the knee, and Vesaria cried out as she pitched forward, striking the ice with both hands. Pain shot through her wrists while the broken edges shifted beneath her weight.
For a moment, she could do nothing but gasp. The cold was so fierce that it seemed to burn through her stocking, and when she tried to pull her leg free, her boot caught beneath the ice.
Behind her, the stallion snorted violently and scrambled backward, sending loose stones scattering down the bank.
Vesaria twisted toward the sound. The horses stood on firm ground several paces away, their heads raised and ears pricked.
She planted both hands against the unbroken ice near the bank and dragged herself backward.
Her trapped foot resisted, and panic seized her as another crack spread beneath her palm.
"Come out," she gasped, pulling desperately. "Come out!"
Her boot finally slipped free, and she scrambled onto the bank, collapsing among the frozen grass with her soaked leg stretched before her.
For several moments, she could only lie there, trembling and struggling to catch her breath.
The water had reached nearly to her knee. Her stocking clung to her skin, and the cold had already begun numbing her toes.
She sat up, staring at the broken ice.
If she had taken another step, she might have fallen farther into the stream. She imagined trying to climb out with both legs trapped beneath the ice, her heavy skirts soaked through, and felt a fresh wave of nausea.
The black stallion stood beside her stolen horse, watching her with his ears pointed forward.
Vesaria looked at him.
"You knew," she whispered.
He approached, lowering his head to investigate her cloak.
She reached up and stroked his muzzle, feeling the softness of his coat beneath her cold fingers.
"You dreadful creature," she murmured. "You might have warned me more politely."
The stallion breathed against her palm, then turned his attention toward the grass.
Vesaria almost laughed.
She had spent the past two days fleeing Azgar, only to find herself grateful for the company of his horse.
The absurdity would have amused her more if she could still feel her toes.
She struggled upright and limped toward a sheltered patch beneath the pines, where she lowered herself onto a fallen trunk. Removing the soaked boot proved difficult, for the leather had tightened around her foot, and she had to tug repeatedly before it finally came free.
Her stocking was thoroughly wet. She peeled it away, wincing when the fabric caught against the blister on her heel, then rubbed her foot vigorously between her hands.
She had no spare boots, and the thought of putting the wet leather back on made her miserable.
After drying her leg with the least damp portion of her cloak, she pulled on a spare wool stocking from her bundle and wrapped the wet boot in cloth. She would have to carry it until she found somewhere to dry it properly.
The wind strengthened as she worked, rattling the branches overhead. A few pale flakes drifted through the trees, settling briefly on her skirts before melting.
Vesaria looked toward the darkening forest.
She needed shelter, preferably somewhere protected from the wind, and she needed it before her wet clothing made her colder still.
The horses stood nearby, their heads lowered together as they investigated the sparse grass.
She watched the black stallion for a moment before gathering her belongings.
"Well," she said, rising carefully, "if you insist on following us, you might as well help me find somewhere warm."
He lifted his head at the sound of her voice.
Vesaria took the reins of her stolen horse and began leading it away from the stream. After a moment, the stallion followed, his heavy hooves crunching through the thin layer of snow.
She glanced back at him, then toward the dark clouds gathering above the hills.
For the first time since leaving the settlement, she found herself wishing she knew the name of Azgar's horse.