After thirty minutes of rest by a dying fire, Ronan stomped the embers out. Clove covered the charred sticks and kindling with torn thistle and brush, and Ike swept the leaves of a large branch over their footprints.
Insects buzzed in the bushes, and the four heard no signs that they were being pursued.
But they also knew that could change at any second.
Maritza boarded the white horse, and this time Ike mounted the beige.
“I'll lead us through Butcher's Bog," Maritza said, lacking the stern tone her voice usually carried. “There, our tracks should be hidden by the low waters."
“And then," Ronan added with the map in his hand, positioning himself on the white horse behind Maritza, “We should take the tough trail of Loner's Crag, and cross around to the merchant path near Lover's La
