Even Meren made it through. Though he swore under his breath the entire time.
Lindarion reached the far edge of the dip. Looked up.
The view stretched farther now. A long slope curling around the side of the mountain, vanishing into white. The snow fell harder here. The wind pushed it straight sideways, stealing heat from every breath.
He could feel the sting against the skin beneath his scarf now.
Ren muttered something ahead. She stomped her boot down into a patch of snow and shook her hands out.
"This is ridiculous."
Ardan grunted. "You wanted the climb."
"Yeah, well. I changed my mind."
Lira looked back at them, voice sharp.
"We stop up ahead."
"How far?" Meren asked, his voice muffled.
"Far enough to still matter."
Lindarion didn't comment.
He just kept walking.
Every step now was a conversation with his legs. Every breath was measured. The kind of cold they were in didn't want to kill fast. It wanted to wait. Wear them down. Take the edges first, then the middle.
