Laurel's red hair whipped about her shoulders as she held on the antlers, staring ahead with all the concentration as the stag ran at breakneck speed. The cold air made her shiver to the extent that her fingers and feet started freezing. Her pants were now covered with snow that was scrapped as the stag hooved forward and sprayed it behind him.
She didn't have time to use her magic, to snap her fingers to summon it, or even chant a spell to add warmth to her body. How could she? She was taut with tension that she might fall off the beast and break her neck. Damn this druid who insisted on traveling on stags! Moreover, whatever little attention she could spare, she spared that on glancing every now and then at Elize, who was perched atop the wolf she wanted to be on.
