TEN
Excitement buoyed Lysander and me in the earliest days of our journey. And why not? The sun was warm and the land flat, making it easy to enjoy our travels. We rode side by side, occasionally spurring our horses into little races, the poor beast braying in protest as he tried to keep up. At night, we slept out in the open, the stars as our blanket and the temperature comfortable enough for us to sleep restfully.
On our fourth day riding west, the tug in my chest pulled us north toward the foothills, and the path grew steeper and narrower. Our horses grunted as they climbed, working harder for every mile we gained.
Gone, too, was the warm weather and gentle breeze. Instead, incessant wind—cold and sharp—buffeted us, cutting through our coats and numbing our fingers. Sleeping outside
