Sequel: The Game ›
Status: complete, but revisions are being made
The Pauper Princess
Chapter Ten
Morning came without its typical rosy cheer. The sun had to fight its way through the dense fog, turning sunrise into nothing more than a gradual change of the sky from black to gray. No birds chirped in the forest, and camp was still eerily quiet. Even in the chill of morning, the guards were unwilling to relight the fire, so breakfast consisted of cold stew and bread.
Everything was packed away quickly and quietly. As we were loading the tents into a wagon, the fog let loose an icy drizzle. My fingertips were numb long before the last rope was tied and the final saddle strapped. Ekohl handed me an extra wool cloak in passing. I accepted it gratefully and wrapped it tightly around myself, trying to keep out the chilling moisture, but it was useless. My clothes were already soaked through and the day had hardly even begun.
The guards rode in a tight circle around the carriage. We had tied a rope from the neck of each wagon’s horse to the back of the wagon before it to free the guards from leading them. It was then, in this blinding fog and with so many unprotected wagons trailing behind us, that we realized that my father had been insane to send only six guards. The carriage was the most important thing to protect, of course. Everything in the wagons, for the most part, could be replaced. However, the life of the princess- the peace offering- was of vital importance.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the fog rolled in even thicker, cutting off my vision almost entirely. The drizzle also grew, turning into a shower of icy droplets. Within an hour, I was sure I would freeze to death. I had to clench my jaw just to keep my teeth from chattering constantly. I was flexing my fingers, trying to keep my blood flowing despite my tight grip on the reins.
Every few minutes I reached out to touch the carriage, reassuring myself that it was still there, still real. It was strange, being able to feel the grain of the wood, tracing its curves with my numb fingers, but not being able to see it. The blindness of being in such a thick fog was unnerving, and even knowing that the guards were only a few paces away, I felt utterly alone.
Miles and inches were impossible to discern between. It felt like we had been traveling through this unnatural fog for years, yet I knew it was only hours. When we could bear the mist no longer, we stopped for a midday meal. Even if we had wanted a fire, it would be impossible. The relentless rain penetrated every log, stick, and twig it could wrap its grip around. Shivering, we silently consumed another cold meal, then continued our blind trek into the white abyss.
Everything was packed away quickly and quietly. As we were loading the tents into a wagon, the fog let loose an icy drizzle. My fingertips were numb long before the last rope was tied and the final saddle strapped. Ekohl handed me an extra wool cloak in passing. I accepted it gratefully and wrapped it tightly around myself, trying to keep out the chilling moisture, but it was useless. My clothes were already soaked through and the day had hardly even begun.
The guards rode in a tight circle around the carriage. We had tied a rope from the neck of each wagon’s horse to the back of the wagon before it to free the guards from leading them. It was then, in this blinding fog and with so many unprotected wagons trailing behind us, that we realized that my father had been insane to send only six guards. The carriage was the most important thing to protect, of course. Everything in the wagons, for the most part, could be replaced. However, the life of the princess- the peace offering- was of vital importance.
I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the fog rolled in even thicker, cutting off my vision almost entirely. The drizzle also grew, turning into a shower of icy droplets. Within an hour, I was sure I would freeze to death. I had to clench my jaw just to keep my teeth from chattering constantly. I was flexing my fingers, trying to keep my blood flowing despite my tight grip on the reins.
Every few minutes I reached out to touch the carriage, reassuring myself that it was still there, still real. It was strange, being able to feel the grain of the wood, tracing its curves with my numb fingers, but not being able to see it. The blindness of being in such a thick fog was unnerving, and even knowing that the guards were only a few paces away, I felt utterly alone.
Miles and inches were impossible to discern between. It felt like we had been traveling through this unnatural fog for years, yet I knew it was only hours. When we could bear the mist no longer, we stopped for a midday meal. Even if we had wanted a fire, it would be impossible. The relentless rain penetrated every log, stick, and twig it could wrap its grip around. Shivering, we silently consumed another cold meal, then continued our blind trek into the white abyss.