Carolynn grimaced at their lacking rations. There was one meager strip of caribou left, yet the storm raged outside the cave. Hymn handed the slice to her, but she put up her hand for him to save it. She had gone weeks without food before, when the winter left the tundra bare. Carolynn and Hymn had put on plenty of summer fat; Carolynn’s stomach made pleasing rolls when she crouched or sat. She would be fine to wait out the weather’s nasty temper.
“It won’t stop until we leave this place,” Hymn said.
“If the gods want us to make it to Saga, why do they not simply stop this weather?”
“They’re angry.”
“Because of our detour?”
Hymn scowled at the tunnel entrance, where flakes of snow were blowing in. “Likely.”
“Why—?” Carolynn started, just as Hymn stood up and stomped on the fire, the clang of his boot against the half-formed metal ringing throughout the enclosure. Their light source faded.
From the darkness, Hymn’s voice resonated like the copper bell in the watchman’s chamber.
“The black dove rides the evening down
Eyes watch it fly
Behind the roll’d hills the thing drowns
Tears now they dry
Night ousts Day in the scholar’s mind
No heart outlasts
The grass silvers ‘neath waxing tine
The final toll cast.”
“Er—Is that…a prayer?” Carolynn said into the quiet.
“We should leave now, before the storm gets worse.” Hymn shuffled through the darkness, presumably packing the satchel and strapping it to his torso.
“But—”
“There used to be a door here,” he muttered to himself as his silhouette covered the dimness coming from the tunnel entrance. He ducked low and left Carolynn in the dark.
Crouching in the blackness, alone with her own mind for company, Carolynn shuddered. The emptiness around her was stark and strange. She followed Hymn outside.