The first thing Rhiannon noticed wasn't a sound, but the silence. The heavy, wet drone of the Southern insects and the thick, floral humidity had vanished. In its place was a sharp, crystalline stillness that tasted of ozone and ancient stone.
She stirred, her cheek rubbing against the rough wool of Fenris’s cloak. The carriage was vibrating- not the frantic, bone-jarring rattle of their escape, but a steady, rhythmic crunch of iron-rimmed wheels over packed snow.
Rhiannon blinked her eyes open, the dim light of the cabin now tinted a soft, ethereal blue. She looked down at her hand. It was still encased in Fenris’s, his large fingers curled protectively around hers. He hadn't moved. He sat in the same position he had occupied hours ago, his back straight, his eyes fixed on her with a
