tents. Even under the trees, there was little
shelter.
Yet then they were at the edge of the camp,
the blinding snows roaring past. Veiling what
the scout pointed to as she said, “Look.”
At his side, Aelin stumbled a step. Rowan
reached for her to keep her from falling.
But she hadn’t been falling. She’d been
lurching forward—as if to run ahead.
Rowan saw at last what she beheld. Who
emerged between the trees.
Against the snow, he was nearly invisible
with his white fur. Would have been invisible
were it not for the golden flame flickering
between his proud, towering antlers.
The Lord of the North.
And at his feet, all around him ... The
Little Folk.
Snow clinging to her lashes, a small sound
came out of Aelin as the creature nearest
lily
(lily)
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