Lazar immediately climbed down from his horse and examined the fresh depression that marked the snow. His eyes narrowed. "Less than an hour, my lord."
Nicolaus said nothing. He simply stood on his ground, gaze following the direction of the tracks.
Exactly where everything had begun. Where that fucking Hunter Hill had directed Lazar's party.
Nicolaus mounted again. He ordered in a low voice, "Let's move," and they continued.
The path gradually narrowed until the horses could no longer pass comfortably between the trees. Eventually, Nicolaus raised a hand again and ordered the men to dismount. They secured the horses nearby before continuing on foot.
The deeper they went, the quieter the forest became. Soon, the only sound left was the crunch of their boots against the snow.
Crunch.
Step.
Crunch.
Then Nicolaus stopped.
