Vica awoke to the sun in her eyes and the cold slicing into her bones. She shivered and pulled the blanket around her more tightly, but the sensation of the rough fabric brushing against her bare skin made her eyes fly open. She froze, unable to ascertain the reason for her state of undress for a heart-stopping moment. In confusion, she looked down to see that it was not a heavy blanket but two winter cloaks that covered her, one atop the other. One of them was hers, and the other was Constantine's, recognizable by the frayed holes in the fabric where the arrows had struck him while they fled their pursuers in the Yrol a week ago.
Vica narrowed her eyes, still half-asleep and annoyed. Where were her clothes? It was freezing.
It was then that the memories struck her like a brick wall, sl
