IX
A SHADOW MOVING SLOW
‘A CRACKLE SOUNDED in the deadwood behind us, and Dior fell still, her eyes growing wide. I was on my feet in a second, all joy from our tiny festivities forgotten, drawing Ashdrinker from her sheath and cursing myself a fool, an idiot, a— ‘There was a fine maid from Dún Fas, who had a r-remarkable ass; not
rounded— ‘“Shut up, Ash!” ‘I narrowed my eyes, peering out beyond the circle of our fire. The forest was black, chill, frozen to its bones, and again I heard it; something heavy, snorting and trudging through the dead scrub towards us. Dior snatched up a burning log
from the fire. ‘“A coldblood?” ‘“No,” I whispered. “I can hear it breathing.” ‘Not the Beast of Vellene, at least, at least … ‘“A beast of some sort, though. That’s the sound of four feet, not two.” ‘“Another one of those deer?” Dior hissed. ‘I remembered that rotten stag we’d faced in the Forest of Sorrows, its head peeling apart as it screamed with a little girl’s voice. Saoirse had warned us that the Blight up here was far worse than in the south. And though we weren’t yet in the northern weald, still I wondered if this was some new horror stalking us in the dark, Blight-riddled and twisted. ‘I saw it coming now; a shadow moving slow towards us. My grip tightened on Ashdrinker, and as Dior hissed warning, I stepped out to meet it, teeth growing long in my mouth as I raised my blade … only to lower it again just as
swiftly.
‘“Sweet Mothermaid,” I whispered. ‘“What is it?” Dior hissed.
‘“Jezebel …?” ‘The mare nickered as I spoke her name, tossing her head and stomping one hoof. She stood there in the falling snow, a grey shadow against the deeper dark.
Her legs were bramble-scratched, her mane tangled, her hide filthy. But still, I couldn’t believe my eyes, laughing as I stumbled through the frost to her side.
Dior shouted in amazement once she recognized the dray, running into the dark and throwing her arms around Jez’s neck. The mare nickered again, apparently just as happy to see Dior as Dior was to see her. ‘“Seven Martyrs, how did she get here?” ‘I shook my head, just as baffled as the girl. “Last I saw this dame, she was charging out the gates of San Guillaume like her tail was afire. She must have been so frightened by the Dead that she swam across the Volta to escape them.
Poor wretch.” ‘“She’s not a wretch, wash your mouth out!” Dior scowled. “Come on, love, come over by the fire. Let’s get you warmed up, eh?” ‘We led the mare back to the light, and I watched Dior fret and fuss, combing out the tangles from Jez’s mane, feeding her a handful of dried mushrooms from our supplies. Again, I shook my head in wonder. The mare had always shown the grit of ten stallions, but her survival, letting alone finding us here … well, it was nothing short of a miracle. And though I wasn’t one to put stock in miracles, still, I cast one wary eye towards the heavens, wondering if our luck had finally changed.’ Gabriel sighed, gazing into the lantern’s flame. ‘I should’ve fucking known better.’
