The journey north was colder than Nixon expected.
The deeper they traveled into the mountains, the quieter the world became.
Snow clung to the edges of the forest paths despite spring beginning to settle over neighboring territories. The roads narrowed into muddy trails, and towering pine trees blocked most of the sunlight overhead.
Talia walked beside him calmly with her wooden staff tapping softly against the earth.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Nixon still did not understand how she moved so confidently without sight.
She stumbled less than fully seeing wolves.
It irritated him.
And impressed him.
Mostly irritated him.
“You’re too quiet,” Talia said softly as they walked.
Nixon glanced toward her.
“You’re blind. How do you know that?”
“You breathe differently when you are thinking too m
