Kaida
It rained on day four.
Not the gentle kind of rain that made the forest smell good and gave you something poetic to think about. The determined, relentless, soaking kind that found every gap in your cloak and made the track into a river of mud. The horses turned sullen and the world was grey in every direction.
Maggie had not said a single word in two hours. This was either dignified stoicism or the early stages of something worse. I couldn’t tell which and I didn’t ask.
I had stopped being cold somewhere around midmorning and graduated to a state beyond cold that didn’t have a name. My fingers had given up complaining and had gone numb. Water ran steadily off the hood of my cloak and down the back of my neck with the persistence of something that had found a weakness and intende
