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After another unappetizing meal of raw brown trout, Bradamante hurried back to the shelter of the forest. Darkness fell soon after, bringing with it a vigorous and frigid wind.
Bradamante wrapped herself in every blanket Rogero had left her, then sat with her back against the stout trunk of a fir tree. It provided some protection from the wind, but there was no escape from the relentless cold.
Her leather boots covered her legs to her calves, but much of the snow she had to hike through came up to her knees and even her thighs. She pulled off the boots and set them outside her woolen cocoon, hoping the wind might dry them at least a little.
She thought of the fire she enjoyed the night before.
How it had warmed her straight through to her bones.
She could imagine the other two sit
