Retrace your steps, said a helpful voice in her head. Go back until you find it.
Retrace your stepsGo back until you find itAs she raised one wet booted foot, she looked down and froze on the spot. Sticking out from a dark huddle, right by the rapidly filling imprint of her boot, was a waxy-looking hand. She dropped to her knees and peeled the cloak away from a muddy clump of hair.
‘Tysin?’
His face was a paler version of the day, grey, wet, and frozen by the lacerating cold. She called his name again, and the eyelids opened halfway. He lay on his side, his knees drawn up. She slid an arm under his neck to raise him, but he uttered a cry of pain.
‘What is it? Where are you hurt?’
‘Arm,’ he whispered. ‘And a rib, I think.’
‘It’s okay, now. You’ll be okay. I’ve got you. There’s a house
