The dense fog at the early morning dawn cannot hide the onslaught of last night’s liquor on my companions. Backs stooped and holding on to the pommels, Dendup and Norbu hobble on their horses like a pair of wounded warriors returning from the battlefield.
Karma seems fine. He prompts his stallion in a fast trot, leading us out of the gate onto the main road. I didn’t hear him come to bed; I found myself folded deep in the tender hollow of him when his fingertips awoke me, brushing a quiet “good morning” onto my skin.
Karma’s stallion shoots ahead, showing no mercy on the slumping pair behind us, a swift shadow fading fast into the surrounding fog. Frost bites my fingers, stiff leather creaks under my rigid grip. With only the dull echo of hooves scrambling on the path to guide us, my
