Valley of Firelight

Morning came sharp and pale. The ridge wind had blown itself out, and the valley had a deadly calm. The smoke of the fires of last night was drifting low in thin ghosts across the frost. Brushing the ice off her cloak Belle was the first. The two twins still lay huddled together, breathing carefully in the chilly night.

Ezra came with her, his breath fogging. It was up the ridge, we got along. "That counts for something."

"It does," she said. Her voice was low, barely ...