The rise was steeper than it looked.
Ashlynn climbed it slowly, one hand in Nyrielle's and the other pressed against her breastbone, where the Olive Seed lay coiled around her heart like a sleeping serpent. Every step jarred it. Every step, she felt its roots tighten a little more, as if the seed knew exactly where she was taking it, and why.
Not yet, she told it silently. Soon. But not yet.
Behind her, Ashlynn heard the others following. Heila's hooves were quick and sure on the frozen ground. Ollie's heavier steps were slow and careful, accompanied by the faint -chink- of mail as he guided Jocelynn up the slope. Virve and Isabell were quieter by comparison, as was the soft hum of Talauia's wings.
Beyond them, at the bottom of the rise, Ashlynn could hear the low murmur of the crowd gathered around the bonfires, watching. At some point, Ignatious had arrived along with Zedya and Lennart.
