A many-throated wind scoured the landscape. Howls and moans near and far congealed into a dissonant chorus, like a network of grieving wolves. The gale tousled my hair and flapped my clothes as I stood atop a boulder, watching Urszula depart on her dragonfly.
They shuttled off down the slope, their heading at angles to their actual line of flight. Lalibela descended in a series of swooping stalls, her wing beats sluggish and intermittent. I worried that she ventured too close to the treetops, her course too straight and predictable. I girded myself against the sight of a tethered harpoon ripping them out of the sky.
When they dipped into the vale and out of sight, I kept staring at the point where they had vanished. I counted off the seconds, and two minutes later they reappeared against the opposite slope. Lalibela, warmed, was back to her herky-jerky, evasive self. I sagged in relief as they popped over the ridge to safety, dwindling to a tiny speck high over the plains.
A chill began to penetrate my bones. I had to get moving to stay warm, so I started up the mountain. I had no specific destination. I just needed to get high enough above the Core.
I had only gone a few paces when I heard a rustling below the tree line. I dove into a patch of knee-high firs flattened by wind and frost, burrowing under the topmost layer of branches.
Through a thin screen of short-needled boughs, I watched four Frelsian soldiers emerge from the last stretch of hip-high trees, all out of breath and disheveled from their bushwhacking. They paused to rest, scanning the bare slopes I had been intending to climb.
They carried the oddest array of weapons: a crossbow with four short arms, a blunderbuss-like wide-bored, short barreled gun, a spear thrower, and a sling mounted on a short stick with a release trigger. Apparently, their military had no standard issue apart from armor and helmets. Just like my sword, weapons were tailored to suit their wielders.
They seemed to be deliberating about something, but the wind carried their voices from me, and I could only make out a murmur. One man went to the spot where Lalibela had touched down and crouched to examine the scraped and crumbled lichens.
His eyes tracked back up the slope, staring directly at the patch of firs where I was hiding, the only real cover between the tree line and the top of the ridge.
I tried to squirm deeper into the branches without wiggling them too much. My sword clinked against the granite. At least one of the soldiers heard it, his voice ringing out in excitement. I whipped out the cloth that Urszula had given me and draped it over my head and face.
It felt ridiculous, putting that hanky on my head, but the edges expanded immediately and rapidly, creeping and flowing under the branches, around my torso and down my legs, covering me completely. It blocked all the light, rendering me blind.
I had my hand on the sword, as they crunched through the firs inches from my head. A heavy, booted foot pinned my wrist against a sharp stone. I gritted my teeth and held my breath.
“There’s no one here,” said a man. “You’re imagining things.”
“There were two on that saddle. Only one flew off.”
“Look at this! A snapped stalk. Someone’s gone this way.” They rushed off up the slope.
I didn’t budge or dare sneak a peek even after I could no longer hear the soldiers. Urszula’s blanket kept growing and thickening until I had enough to tuck under me and insulate me against the cold stone. It had become a tent and sleeping bag and mattress all in one. It got so toasty under there, I had no desire to move. I just closed my eyes.
***
I napped, as cozy as a squirrel in its nest. I had no intention or desire to fade, but it happened anyhow. I wouldn’t even have known I had switched worlds if it hadn’t been for the sudden surge of pain.
