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⠀⠀⠀BY THE TIME they finally stopped riding, night had come and gone, and the day had dawned clear and cold.
⠀⠀⠀Carsen was so weary with exhaustion and the cuts on her face stung in the cold air so much she almost fell off the horse several times. If Jon can stay awake, you can too, is what she told herself, but felt disturbed at how little she believed it. Finally, Jon pulled on the reins, and the horse slowed gently to a stop. Carsen looked blearily around. They were in a large, hilly field, surrounded by nothing but dull blue sky. To their left, a pond of water. Water, not ice, not frozen. It made her want to weep.
⠀⠀⠀Jon dismounted first and helped Carsen down, but her legs gave way as soon as she hit the ground. She pulled her way over to the pond and sunk a hand in. It was searingly cold, but it felt clean, lifting the dirt from her hands and from under her nails. She sluiced the travel stains from both her hands, then cupped some water in them and splashed her face. She hissed as the cuts stung under the assault, but felt a cracking, jarring motion, and knew she was washing off dried blood, so she kept at it, dabbing at her face with cold water until she felt as scrubbed as a newborn babe in summer.
⠀⠀⠀"Catch."
⠀⠀⠀Carsen looked up as Jon threw her an empty skin. She unscrewed the top and sniffed gingerly, and the thick scent of wine met her nose. She washed it twice thoroughly before filling it with water and taking a long swing, and passing it back to Jon. He stood and looked around, wary, but Carsen felt oddly at ease.
⠀⠀⠀"We can stop here a few hours," Jon said eventually. He was not looking at her. "Get some sleep, if you can."
⠀⠀⠀Immediately the urge to protest rose, and died in her throat. "Alright," she agreed weakly, then turned away from him. She propped her head on the skin, water straining gently against the leather, in leu of a pillow, and curled into herself in leu of a blanket, curled into her exhaustion and wariness and ever-present disquiet until she assumed a fetal position. And then, she slept.
⠀⠀⠀It was the most peaceful sleep she'd slipped into in years, heavy and dreamless. At least, she looked dreamless. Jon couldn't quite tell. Carsen was a guarded person at the best of times, and sleep left her open. Expressions flickered across her face, too quickly to glimpse what they were, and more than once her hand twitched by her side. After an hour, Jon caught her lips moving as if she were praying, but no sound escaped her.
⠀⠀⠀Jon made to turn away, Longclaw over his lap and keep watch, but to his irritation he found he physically could not look away from her. She was still as she slept now, almost like a corpse. A cold feeling crept over him at the thought, and then a memory. Carsen, falling off her horse. The ice, projectiling from her lips in a high, glittering arc like shattered diamond. How he'd held her and felt no breath, felt all his own air vanish from his lungs.
