Chapter 17
The Lonely Road
Look!” Benjamin had stopped and was pointing along a thin path through the trees. About fifty paces from the Lonely Road stood a small cottage. “It looks deserted. Maybe it could be a warm, dry place to roast some potatoes and spend the night.” Given the dimness of the forest’s motley shadows, Nicolas was amazed Benjamin had spotted the trail, much less the cottage, in the darkness.
They were about two miles from the crossroads and the Rowan tree. Night—with its dark sky and the cold breeze—was now fully upon them. Only minutes before, Ranulf had stopped to hang a small lantern from a stick he’d lashed to the pommel of the pony’s wooden cross-frame. The lantern bounced and bobbed with each of the pony’s steps, but under the canopy of the forest’s crowded trees
