Fearless Warrior: Isaacson Trilogy Book Two

11

Ulric gave a short nod before hauling himself into his saddle with less skill than usual. Esmund glanced once more at Elsie, refusing to listen to the voice in his head saying he'd just sealed their doom, and as if to echo its warning, snow began to fall.

What started as a light dusting that evaporated before touching the ground for the first few hours changed into giant snowflakes that clung with tenacity to everything it touched the further the group traveled toward North Fork.

Another fifteen minutes and they would begin ascending into the mountains along a deer trail. It was little more than four feet wide and hugged its way around the Southwest side of the mountain until it dropped into a steep descent. One misstep by the horses and rider and beast would be lucky if the seven-hundred-foot fall didn't kill them.

They rode single-file, with Ulric leading the way, followed by Piper and Elsie. Esmund brought up the rear, ponying the horses carrying the dead.

The temperature plummeted the further they rode along the path, and the snow increased its efforts until every protrusion along the mountain held over five inches and reached up past the horses' fetlocks.

By the time Esmund made his way through the path, the other mounts had cut through the drifts, and clumps of snow along the increasingly narrow path clung to the edge before toppling over. Esmund was confident they would soon be next.

His bottom was numb, his toes were so cold they almost felt warm, and his fingers were frozen around the reins. His eyelids were heavy with fatigue and threatened to close until Frisky slipped.

Esmund's eyes shot wide open, his stomach lurched, and his thighs gripped Frisky's ribs, shifting his weight as much as he dared to help Frisky regain his footing.

Loose stones scattered and rolled over the abrupt edge of the trail, plummeting down the side of the mountain. The rocks ricocheted against trees and boulders until their sharp, clacking 'tings' no longer reached his ears.

"Everybody watch your step," Ulric said as he glanced over his shoulder and met Esmund's unnerved gaze. "Stay calm, little brother, nothing bad is going to happen."

"You're a terrible liar, and we both know it," Esmund muttered. His heart pounded in his chest and echoed in his ears. It took twenty more minutes for it to resume its regular beat once the immediate danger had passed.

As they turned around the bend of the mountain and began the final descent, he stared in horrified silence. A wall of dense fog, not more than thirty feet away, blanketed the remaining trail and mountainside from view.

Elsie gasped and looked at Esmund, "Can we turn back?"

He wanted to say yes. It was madness to carry on in such conditions, and yet there was no other option they could take, not when attempting to turn around would put them in more danger. He shook his head and finally gave her an answer, "No, it's too narrow."

The blood drained from her face as the muscles of her throat worked over a painful swallow.

He forced an encouraging smile to his lips and ignored the panic thrumming to life in his veins. "Chester's a mountain horse, so you'll be all right."

"I have a terrible feeling about this," Elsie whispered as she faced forward once again, "I'll be horribly vexed with you, Esmund, if I die because of your stupidity and your brother's pigheadedness."

Ulric sat up straight and growled low in his throat, "I didn't make you follow–"

"She never said you did," Esmund interrupted, weary of the whole ordeal.

Piper cleared her throat, "Does it often snow in Wyoming?"

Even though she wouldn't have been able to see it, Esmund bit back a grin, "Yes."