The wind moaned through the Himalayan passes like a thousand ghosts. Snow carried on its breath swirled in white veils across the ridge as Princess Meena tightened her shawl around her shoulders. Ram Babu trudged alongside, his breath puffing like a steam engine, muttering prayers between shivers. Behind them, two towering Yetis lumbered silently, their massive feet leaving craters in the snow, their presence both fearsome and comforting.
They had been traveling for hours since leaving the cavern where Meena had regained her strength. The divine lotus had restored much of her vitality, but the cold still gnawed at her bones. Ram Babu, ever the worrier, suggested every half-hour that they stop and build a fire.
“Princess,” he said, teeth chattering, “this wind will blow even my soul out o
