Arc 2: Chapter 15: The Hunt
“It’s too early for snow,” Vanya said, frowning up at the gray sky.
Emma looked less impressed by the rain of pale flecks settling across the land in a thin film. She opened her mouth to speak, pausing mid-word as a cutting wind sent drifts of misting snow and dead leaves across the hill. “We often had early winters back in the Westvales,” she said. “I still remember them.”
“That was mountain country,” I noted. I knelt, took some of the skyfall on my fingertips, then pressed it to my tongue. I spat it back out. “It’s not just snow,” I said, standing. “There’s ash mixed in.”
Emma pursed her lips. “Explains the color. What do you think it means?”
Vanya spoke before I could answer. “We’re too far west for ash rain.” She clasped her hands together, shivering at the bitter air.
I didn’t know what it meant, exactly. It could have been an ash storm blown in from the east, originating in those blighted lands where Golden Seydis once reigned. That didn’t explain the sudden cold, though. I suspected something else, but kept my peace.
Emma glared up at the sky as though it had personally offended her. Then, with a tsk, she turned to Qoth. The irk reclined in the shadow of an apple tree nearby, tossing one of its prematurely spoiled fruits between his gloved hands.
“Is the Night Coach ready?” She asked.
“For road travel, aye milady. Overcast skies won’t put us in the air, though.”
“It will suffice,” the young Carreon said primly. “Are you ready to depart, Ser Red?”
“Best be off,” I agreed.