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Nothing but snow and the ugly

There are worse ways to end a life, she’d thought, standing in the destroyed campsite, caressing the key around her neck. And yet, there was Annis. She’d cursed the boy. She’d set the whole thing in motion, she felt sure of it. The Moonshadow had shown her the old clawed fairy as the way to save Jaydin. She’d likely pay for that information with her life. It’d be a shame not to use it. The best way to end a life, she’d thought as she whispered assurgam and headed for the Bitter Mountains, is with the truth. She meant to find it. By midday she’d left the foothills behind. The mountain air had become cold, the trees less varied. She’d rested near the first peak, snuggling inside her cloak against the chill. Even though she’d been nauseous she’d made herself nibble on a dried out piece of gingercake she’d found in the side of her pack. Caelia hadn’t mentioned how much levitating wore you out, and she’d needed the energy. She’d been weary, tired to her very bones, but moved on, hoping she’d get a little benefit from the sweet bread before it inevitably came back up. By early evening she’d made the second peak, high enough to find the snow. The first flakes were fat and soft, landing on her cheeks like a feather’s kiss. Now her cheeks burned with the cold, when she could feel them at all. The higher she’d gotten, the harder the cursed snow fell. And the wind had picked up, too, blowing the storm nearly sideways in places. The trees had quickly become lumpy, snow covered pillars, the rocky outcroppings nothing but shadowy mounds of white. She’d been forced to spend the last hour walking as well, her power of levitation gone after the food ran out. It was grueling, exhausting work, even on a good day. Her pack felt http://www.milaci.ro/ heavier than she’d remembered, her shoulder screaming with every step as she’d forged a painful, slow path through the knee high snow. She’d made some ground, she thought, but it was hard to be sure. For all she knew she might be walking in circles; the snow covered her tracks as soon as she’d even made them. She stood now, her hands on her knees, shivering, trying to recover. The coughing had come back with a vengeance. This time, she realized with fear, there were small dark clots in the snow, along with the bright red sprays of blood. That’s new. She wretched, fear twisting in her belly, and wiped her face. Puking every quarter hour had been better than this. She laughed, a sad, empty sound, and allowed herself another minute of rest.