CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Adalard followed the tracks until they disappeared. The weather condition was rapidly deteriorating. Pulling on the power of his connection with Samara, he breathed and lifted his hand, allowing the power inside him to flow outward.
“Show me,” he murmured.
A thin ribbon of his aura reached out, searching for a connection to Samara. He grunted with satisfaction when the beam of violet energy shot forward. He clung to it, following the faint thread through the blinding, wind-driven snow.
He slowed in his progress as the snow on the ground became thicker. He ducked when a tree branch snapped in the high wind. The distraction broke the fragile connection between him and Samara. He gritted his teeth, lifted his hand, and focused again. The thin strand of energy flickere
