Tristan pocketed the device and studied the tracks. Boot prints headed northwest, stumbling in places, showing exhaustion. The mob had lost the trail somewhere but they'd pick it up again eventually if he didn't move faster.
He shifted partially, letting instinct rise. His vision sharpened, picking up details regular sight would miss.
Something inside him pulled hard toward the northwest. Not logical. Not tactical. Just certainty that she was that direction, that she needed him, that every second wasted was a second closer to losing her.
The forest blurred past, snow barely slowing him with shifter strength driving each stride. The trail grew fresher. She'd come this way recently, moving fast but starting to slag. He found where she'd fallen, the impact site obvious in disturbed snow.
Then the tracks veered sharply west. She’d gotten turned around in the storm, circling back toward the lake despite her best efforts.
Tristan pushed harder. Behind him, voices echoed through the trees. The mob spreading out, getting closer, their numbers turning search into inevitability.
Moonmirror Lake materialized through the trees, its surface frozen black beneath fresh snow. The shoreline stretched empty except for one figure collapsed near the water's edge.
Maren.
She sat in the snow, staring at the lake with unseeing eyes. Her cloak was soaked, her lips tinged blue, and her whole body shook with cold.
"Maren." Tristan dropped beside her, checking for injuries. No blood. No obvious wounds. Just exhaustion and exposure pulling her under.
"The water remembers," she mumbled, her voice slurred. "Mother said it remembers. Where shadows sleep. Where the water never freezes but it's frozen now. Everything's frozen."
"We need to move. Can you stand?"
"Tried to find it. Tried to see. But the water won't show me." Her silver eyes found his, unfocused. "She hid it here. I know she did. But where? Where would water remember?"
Hypothermia. She was delirious, speaking in fragments that might be meaningful if he could parse them.
Tristan pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Come on. Up."
Her head lolled against his shoulder. "Let them find me. Easier that way."
"Not happening."
He lifted her easily despite her height, cradling her against his chest. She made a sound of protest but didn't fight, just curled into his warmth like a child seeking comfort.
Voices echoed closer. The mob would reach the lake within minutes.
Tristan turned away from the sound and headed deeper into the forest, away from the search party, away from town. The safe house was too obvious, they'd check it immediately. But there were other places, other shelters, spots he'd catalogued during patrol that could hide them until she recovered enough to think clearly.
Maren's breathing evened out against his chest. Passing out or falling asleep, hard to say. Her dark shadows wrapped aroundthem both, seeking his warmth, pressing close in a way that felt protective and possessive.
His instincts screamed right with every step, even as logic said this was insane. Running from the people he was supposed to serve. Harboring someone the mob had decided was guilty. Choosing her over duty, over town, over everything he'd built here.
But she fit against him like she'd been designed for this exact position, and the pull that had led him straight to her hummed satisfied in his chest.
Snow fell heavier. Behind them, the voices faded as the mob lost the trail. Ahead, shelter waited in the form of an old hunting cabin barely visible through the white.
Tristan kicked the door open and carried Maren inside, already planning. He needed fire, warmth, protection. Tomorrow they'd figure out the rest.
Tonight he just needed to keep her alive.
25
TRISTAN
The hunting cabin was barely more than four walls and a roof, but it had a fireplace and enough dry wood stacked inside to last the night.
Tristan got the fire going quickly, years of field experience making the process automatic. Flames caught and spread, casting flickering light across rough-hewn walls and a floor covered in ancient dust. He'd found blankets in a chest, musty but intact, and spread them near the hearth.
