The bitter cold of late winter showed no signs of relenting, with frost locking the land in a frozen grip. Heaven and earth were a vast, desolate expanse, where snowflakes drifted listlessly through the howling northern wind.
Some rode horses toward the north, while others fled southward on the backs of wolves.
Across the ice sheet, a snow wolf, sturdy as a stallion, was sprinting for its life, bearing a young girl on its back. Its paws struck the ice with heavy, rhythmic thuds. This snow wolf was not pure white; its coat was a matted, grizzled gray. With long, upright ears, sharp fangs, and fierce, dark-gray eyes, every heavy breath it took erupted into a misty plume of frost. Its gaze was as intelligent as it was ferocious; it only softened, displaying an undeniable, tender loyalty, whenever the girl huddled on its back whispered against its neck.
Chapter 119