27
God's Shadow Across My Path
As dusk drew nearer, the scanty snow turned to rain. Matthew gritted his teeth and hunched down in the saddle even more. They were already wet from the damp snow, and the rain didn’t help. Add to that the gusts of wind that blew through the valley, and it meant that for most of the afternoon they plodded along in mutual wet misery. Matthew’s fingers were stiff with cold on the reins, his feet freezing in the stirrups.
But the refuge was close. He glanced at Thomas. He couldn’t see his son’s face as his hood was pulled up to ward off the rain, but he could see the weariness in him.
Matthew was tired too, the pain from the Alder King’s arrow blossoming from a dull ache to a sharp jolt that pierced him every time he moved. Thankfully he still had some of the
