They had left the carriage a while back and took the horses.
Markus walked ahead, his broad shoulders cutting through the falling snow, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Rin followed close behind, her bag slung across her body, her eyes scanning the trees for threats she could not name. They talked in low voices, arguing about the best route, about whether they should have brought more food, about whether the Master would have their heads if anything happened to Kaelen.
After a while, Kaelen was sure the trees were moving.
It started as a feeling. A prickle at the back of his neck, the same sensation he used to get in the old world when a hunter was tracking him through the dark. He turned, the trees were still. The snow was undisturbed. The shadows pooled between the trunks like dark water.
He turned back, he walked twenty paces and turned again.
The tree was closer.
