Chapter 342: Whoa.

Chapter 342: Chapter 342: Whoa.

It’s difficult to tell how long they’ve been riding, or how far or how deep into the forest they go but the further they drift from the plains the more the wild becomes evident in everything around them.

The trees start to grow thicker and taller; evergreens taking over and casting shadows where before the summer trees had stood bare, and those that remain are decorated in thick needles of ice that glint when the light catches them.

The terrain grows rockier; more precarious, but the stallion is sure-footed and Loac picks their way carefully like he knows just where the earth is safe and where it’s not.

As far as Khobi can tell he’s not following any particular trail --and hasn’t been, even from the start --but he seems to know the way.

​The way where exactly Khobi has no idea --because there’s too much purpose to the way they’re wandering for there to be no destination --and as much as he kind of wants to ask, he doesn’t really care. They’re beyond the walls.

Far beyond the walls, even, and even though the mountains are still far to the distance; dark shadows looming up against an ominous grey sky, with the fresh snow crunching underfoot and the familiar scents breezing by on the crisp, bitter air, it feels like he’s already there.

​A sudden movement amongst an otherwise still backdrop catches his eye, and when he cranes his head to look, he finds himself staring directly at a bird he’s never seen before; all white.

He blinks at it, cocking his head. It could be his imagination, but it almost looks like the bird does the same.

A second later a second, almost identical one lands on the branch right beside it; disturbing the snow that’s settled there.

Loac’s ears prick up at the sound as the snow hits the ground, and glances back to see Khobi eyeing the pair of birds with a quizzical expression.

​"You don’t have those?" he asks curiously, and when Khobi shakes his head he says something else. It takes Khobi a moment to realise that what he’s just said must be the name of the bird.

​" Huh ." He doesn’t really know what to do with that information.

​"They look different in summer," Loac tells him easily, perfectly content with the steady rocking of the horse as they plod onwards, "They’re usually pretty hard to spot in winter." Which makes sense, being pure white and all. "It’s meant to be good luck to see em. At least that’s what ma always said."

​Khobi doesn’t know what to do with that information either.

Or the other tidbits of information that Loac starts to offer him whenever they catch a glimpse of a new kind of creature as they weave through the forest; slowly but steadily climbing.

There are a number of them, and Loac knows them all by name. By unspoken agreement it becomes somewhat of a contest to see who can spot more.

Which turns out to be somewhat of a challenge, because as Loac tells him, blue eyes shimmering, most of the animals out here change their coats for winter to blend in, but Khobi’s never been afraid of a challenge and he definitely doesn’t want Loac to win.

...

Over his years spent at Briyagi, Khobi had sometimes wondered what his life might have looked like had Scargga never fallen.

Not often, because there was no changing the reality that it had, and never aloud, because in Briyagi if you didn’t keep such things to yourself they were taken from you.

But every now and then, in the privacy of his own thoughts he’d let himself wonder. It would usually be summer, because he’d always hated the cold and he’d grown to hate it even more because even in the depths of summer Briyagi was forever cold, and whilst sometimes he’d picture himself at the castle, training alongside his uncle’s men or arguing with the cooks, more often than not he was in the mountains; spending his days roaming the forests and chasing off bandits.

Training, maybe, to be the kind of swordsman that bards sang about.

And in the evenings, lounging beneath a waterfall or in the hot springs under the stars.

​He’d never thought much about winter. But if he had, there’s a good chance that he might have envisioned himself trudging through the snow beneath silent, bare trees and a grey sky.

Heading for hot springs, most likely.

​So, probably a bit like this.

​(Although, given Loac’s confusion about what a hot spring is, he’d guess that that’s not where they’re headed.

​...Which is probably for the best.)

​It suddenly feels a just a little too warm for this time of year, and when Loac abruptly swats him on the knee Khobi’s immediately terrified that he’s somehow read his mind.

But no, apparently he’s just been unusually quiet.

​" --Hey, you better not be sleeping back there," Loac drawls, and even though Khobi hasn’t minded in the silence in the least there’s also something kind of comforting about hearing a familiar voice in the depths of the wild, "We’re almost there."

Obligingly, Khobi cranes his neck around him to get a look at where exactly it is that he’s brought him, only to find himself staring out at pretty much the exact same thing he’s been staring out at for the last hour or so.

Maybe even longer. What with the cloud cover and the spindly web of tree branches netting the sky, it’s getting hard to tell what time of day it is or how long they’ve been moving for.

The middle of nowhere is where they are. Bewildered, Khobi can’t help the ugly snort that escapes him.

​Loac’s brought him to the middle of fucking nowhere .

​"...Uh, what am I meant to be seeing?" he inquires flatly, and gets a haughty look thrown back at him.

​"I said we’re almost there," Loac insists childishly, but as he raises a gloved hand to point out ahead of them the scowl begins to fade, giving way to the barely-there beginnings of a smile.

And while at first it just looks like more of the same; more naked trees with even more beyond, when Khobi squints he can see them starting to thin as the eternal forest finally yields to open space.

​" Look ."

​Khobi is looking. And even though he wasn’t sleeping, as they near the forest’s edge he finds himself rubbing his eyes all the same, just to make sure he’s not dreaming.

​" Whoa ."

​The word spills off on a whisper. Somehow, in the silence of the woods it feels uncannily loud.

​"...Nice, right?" Loac remarks –in the understatement of the century –as he wheels the horse around and then to a halt on the bank they’ve arrived at so that Khobi gets a full, unobstructed view of the clearing they’ve arrived at in its entirety.