Chapter 98: [98] Don’t Wake the White Wolf
The wagon rattled along the frozen road as Xavier leaned back against the wooden panels. Each jolt sent needles of pain through his skull, but the firewine had taken enough edge off that he could think clearly again. With his longevity ability, he got the benefits of the wine with none of the drawbacks.
"You should rest," Gunnar said, noticing Xavier’s discomfort. "Still got a few hours before we reach Vykengard."
Xavier nodded slightly, careful not to aggravate his headache. "Good idea."
He closed his eyes, not expecting sleep to come, but hoping to conserve his strength. The steady rhythm of hooves on packed snow and the occasional creak of the wagon created a strange lullaby. Despite the cold and his throbbing head, exhaustion pulled at him.
Calypso. Where was she in this frozen world? Had she landed among friendlier faces? Or was she alone, her silver hair marking her as suspicious in a place that seemed wary of the Winter Court?
I’ll find you, he promised silently. Whatever it takes.
The wagon jolted over a particularly rough patch, jarring Xavier from his half-sleep. He blinked, realizing the light had changed. The gray sky had darkened further, and fat snowflakes drifted down around them.
"Whoa there," called the driver—Rachel—bringing the horses to a stop.
Gunnar stretched, his joints popping audibly. "Time to rest the horses," he explained to Xavier. "Won’t do us any good if they collapse before we reach the city."
The wagon had stopped in a small clearing just off the road. Many trees provided some shelter from the wind, and a stream—partially frozen but still flowing—cut through the snow nearby.
Xavier climbed down from the wagon, his legs stiff from cold and inactivity. He stamped his feet to restore circulation, wincing as the movement sent fresh pain through his head.