under his eyes. Shadow and beard darkened his jaws, pooled beneath his cheekbones.
“What?” he asked wearily.
It was the first time either of them had spoken since the morning.
“Nothing,” she murmured. Her voice sounded pathetically small in the vastness.
She didn’t like how their words echoed in the silence. Didn’t like how the air made them somehow louder. It was too empty here. So unlike her forest, always cramped and wild and ready to close in. Except for the rush of wind, the cliff was silent.
“How do we get across?” she asked at last.
“There’s a bridge up ahead.”
He motioned for Ren to direct Król along the path of the gorge.
As he leaned forward, she felt his chest against her shoulder, the rough edge of his jaw against her cheek. It was as if they were in the river again, and again he was refusing to say the things she needed to hear.
But he hadn’t said those things then, and he didn’t say them now. Ren noticed, with an uneasy feeling, that he smelled like blood.
The promised bridge appeared first as a shadow, outlined by the sunlit clouds. It gathered detail as they got closer, supported by giant arched columns that extended downward to disappear into the cottony gray clouds.
The bridge was moving.
Scaly creatures undulated over the stone rails, like enormous snakes. They coiled in perfect, hypnotic rhythm. As they neared, the creatures gave a deep, guttural hiss.
No, Ren thought. Not . . .
Dragons uncurled around the bridge. There were two of them, with faces that were equal parts serpentine and equine. Sets of antlers, each with at least thirty tines, crested their heads. Thick silver fur ringed their necks like manes, only to merge into scales on their backs. Glittering feathered wings unfurled from their long snakelike bodies.
Ren wanted to disappear behind Lukasz. Run back into the forest. Never come back here. To this. They reminded her, horribly, of the Dragon.
They reminded her of Ry?.
“It’s okay,” said Lukasz behind her. “They’re statues.”
At his words, Ren could make out a grainy edge to their fur and wings. And they weren’t merely the color of the stone bridge; they were part of the bridge itself. The Faustians beat their wings against the sky. Slowly, they began to descend. Their coils hit the stone with clouds of dust.
“What now?” she whispered.
“I’m a Wolf-Lord,” said Lukasz. “They’ll let us through.”
But his horse trembled as the Faustians wove around them. Scales slid over the cliff edge, and the two dragons intertwined themselves like braided hair, until Ren and Lukasz were surrounded by a heaving wall.
They couldn’t go back.
Lukasz clicked at Król.
“Let’s go, boy.”
Król trotted, then broke into a canter. Dust exploded under his hooves. The air bit down in sharp blasts from the rocky slopes. Snow scattered. They thundered onto the cliffside beyond the gorge. Ren looked back only once, and the bridge twisted and hissed after them.
“The sun is setting,” said Lukasz. “We haven’t got much time.”
The hills climbed steadily upward, transforming to low trees and brush. Squat firs rose from the rocky earth, and a thin layer of dust coated every surface. The air was oppressive, silent. Ren couldn’t see any animals. The narrow path wound ever upward, twisting away through the high rock walls. The Mountains blocked out most of the sky, edges glowing with the setting sun.
Ry? would have loved this, she realized. The climbing. The cold, the adventure—
No.
She couldn’t think about that now. It was too final. She thought of Lukasz, of Franciszek. Even if he was dead—and Ren wondered if he was—it was easier to think of him as missing. It was easier to accept things that way. Ease into the newness. Ease into the aloneness.
Ren blinked back tears as up into the Mountains they rode.
Lukasz watched as night fell like a veil of smoke.
They walked long after the darkness; Ren heard the dull crunch of stone moving around them. But Lukasz had been born here and Lukasz knew the way, and their trek did not waver. Their path did not fall away.
It was only after what felt like hours that they chose a wide ledge for the campsite. There was a cliffside behind them, and a view of the Mountains below. Even in all the open space, darkness enveloped them. It filled the gaps between the more distant peaks and tethered itself to the edge of every horizon. With it came a chill wind strong enough to rattle the shale and cut right to their bones.