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As soon as they entered the forest, the muttering branches fell silent, untouched by the gusting breeze they had felt before they had entered. The only sounds were the muffled pace of the horses’ hooves and the squeak of the leather in their saddles as they rode.
Moss hung down from the huge twisted trees in places, and ivy twined its way up the gnarled trunks in others. Like yesterday, it was hard to see past the path they were riding upon, even though the sun had been shining as they entered the woods. Shadows deepened just a few paces to either side of them, allowing only the vague outline of trees and bushes to be seen. Last night’s snow dusted the branches, and it dropped sometimes on Thomas’ cloak when they rode close enough to brush by them.
But he hardly felt it, struggling a
