By afternoon, there was snow. It fell in soft cottony spirals around them, as the Erols deftly traversed the steep, slippery slopes. Forests with large dense and big trees surrounded them. Each tree trunk was as wide as one of the Erol beasts, and taller than the tallest spires of Fortress Irismus.
Azriel, shivered despite the thick pashmina jacket, lined with fur that she wore. Her legs ached from the continuous motion, and her back was sore as well. This part of the journey wasn't much fun, but she wasn't going to call a halt or complain.
