Jonas felt as though he was swimming rather than walking.
He had no idea how long he had been walking, or how far he had gone.
The snow rose above his knees. Every step meant hauling his leaden legs out of that white mire.
His army boots had long since soaked through. At first, the cold had felt like countless needles stabbing his toes, but at some point, the pain had vanished. Now, everything below his knees no longer belonged to him. They felt like two wooden posts hanging from his body.
"Hah... hhh..."
Every breath was torture.
The air he inhaled felt like broken glass, cutting every stretch of windpipe and every air sac it passed.
He wanted to stop.
His eyelids felt weighed down with lead. The howling wind around him almost sounded like the lullaby his mother used to hum, tempting him to lie down in the soft, white snow and sleep.
Can't sleep... if I sleep, I'll die...
Jonas bit down hard on the tip of his tongue. The mingled numbness and pain brought his unfocused eyes back into focus.
Once again, the battle flag snapping in the blizzard surfaced in his mind.
That one-armed old man had ridden a giant wolf larger than a horse and crushed the Centurion's chest as easily as squashing an ant.
Fear overpowered the cold. It was a stimulant more potent than even the bitterest chill.
Several black specks suddenly appeared in the blinding snow ahead.
Am I hallucinating? Jonas blinked his frost-crusted lashes.
The specks were moving, accompanied by the crisp clink of metal... armor scraping against armor! It was the sweetest sound he had ever heard!
That's... Lord Hector's patrol! Those are the Linburg Army's scouts!
"Help... help me..."
Jonas opened his mouth, trying to shout, but all