The carriage soon lurched to a stop.
Darius leaned forward, drawing breath to speak, but Xion was already up.
The door creaked open before the driver could descend from his perch. A sharp breath of cold air lunged in, stinging exposed skin.
Xion stepped down without waiting for a hand as he would usually do.
Waiting for Darius to lead him forward had changed from a need to a habit.
He had gotten so used to those hands cradling him that walking on his own felt foreign to him.
Behind him, there was a scrape of boots on the carriage floorboards before a sound of crunching snow.
Darius followed quickly — perhaps too quickly.
"Xion?"
The snow was deeper than he'd expected. Even though the guards had cleared it, it still reached above his ankles.
"Xion, wait—"
A hand reached for his arm. The grip strong enough to stop him if he wanted to.
Xion tried to take a step forward, and his toe caught the edge of a buried stone.
