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Bradamante spent a long and sleepless night wandering westward through the snow.
She needed Rogero’s compass stone. She relied on it more than she thought she would.
But at the same time she cursed him for so many things. That she was out here, that was the first.
He could have given her so many more tools to help her on her journey back. Something to provide her with light. Some sorcery to give her fire.
A horse. What she wouldn’t give right now for a horse. Her feet were frozen through to the bone inside her wet boots.
Through the hours she walked up and down hillsides, through endless snow, she thought of Rogero often. Ceaselessly. Every thought of him darker than the last.
At daybreak she rested beside a stream and forced herself to eat two more raw brown trout. She could bar
