Aria The blizzard finally broke just as the sun began to bleed over the jagged peaks of the eastern mountains. The howling wind that had battered us for hours degraded into a low, mournful moan. The blinding whiteout thinned, revealing a frozen, desolate landscape of twisted black trees and a massive, half-frozen river cutting through a deep gorge. "The crossing," Finn rasped, his voice barely audible over the crunch of the horses’ hooves. I turned my head. Finn was swaying dangerously in his saddle. His face was the color of old parchment, his lips tinged blue from the cold. The heavy dark cloak he wore was completely soaked through on the right side, the fabric stiff and freezing from his own blood. "Just a little further, Finn," I urged, spurring my exhausted horse closer to his so I could grab his reins. "Once we cross that bridge, we are out of Thornwood. Ronan’s patrols can't legally follow us." "Rogues don't care about borders, Aria," Finn coughed, a wet, rattling sound
ปรับปรุงล่าสุด : 2026-10-12 อ่านเพิ่มเติม