Jake could see his breath coming out of his mouth like steam.
Hands behind his back, he was standing at the porch and looking intently at the courtyard in front of him; the trees and shrubs were stained with white, and the ground was as smooth as a cake. The sky was clear this morning, a perfect unhindered blue as the sun shone a dandelion golden-yellow with beams of chrysanthemum orange. Usually, he would enjoy everything about this kind of enchanting setting. Today, however, he had no such inclination.
Three mornings had gone by since he and Wing-mun last saw the monks; before departing, they had agreed to meet here by yesterday latest. Yet until now there was no sign of them.
Did the snowstorm slow them down, he mused, or was it because Little Lung’s still not well enough to trav
