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... low, thick enough that Vencian could barely see ahead. The water moved slowly around dark rocks, half-frozen in places.
Pine trees lined the slopes, heavy with snow. They flickered in and out of view through the drifting fog. The path followed the water’s edge, winding between ice and stone.
Day two, Vencian thought, calculating the distance still ahead. Forty miles to Saint Aldric’s—would’ve been nothing in good weather. But these horses can barely manage a crawl in the snow. He ...
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