Talia's POV
By the second night, the storm had broken into silence.
The air hung heavy and still, snow glittering under a waning moon. The horse, Alder, walked slowly and tired, every exhale puffing white against the cold. When the outline of a cabin appeared through the trees—a dark, sagging shape half-buried in frost—Talia almost thought she’d imagined it.
But it was real.
The old structure leaned against the hillside as if it were trying to disappear into it. The windows were broken, and the door hung off one hinge, but the roof held. Shelter.
She dismounted, legs shaking from exhaustion, and led Alder under the small overhang beside the cabin. “You rest here,” she whispered, patting his neck. “I’ll find something dry.”
Inside, the air was thick with dust and old wood. Her breath
