Pauper Princess

Introduction

If you take into consideration the customs of my country, I’ve actually been fortunate that this has taken so long. Most girls are forced into marriage as soon as they reach the young age of thirteen or so. As for me, my seventeenth birthday is only a few short months away and I remain unwed. I suppose it just hasn’t been important for me to get married. Until now.

         Now, just as is the custom in my country, I will be married off to serve as a means to reach some political goal of my father’s. He’s already chosen the man, and my marriage has been progressing for the last several months unbeknownst to me. He’s only three years older than me, but the fact remains that I’ve never even met this man. My father cannot possibly expect me to marry a stranger.

         Plus, this stranger, my betrothed, lives far away to the north. His country is right near the ocean. I’ve always wanted to see the ocean someday, but if this is the only way, I’d be more than happy to never lay eyes upon it. I love my country, my people, my home. Here in Shayen, in the midst of Kyshia’s rippling plains and rolling hills, is where I’ve lived my entire life thus far. It’s here, in the city where I was born and raised, that I had hopes of spending the rest of my days.

         I suppose that was foolish of me to think that I would escape marriage. My father, a very powerful man by anyone’s standards, has always been interested in making alliances. And what better way is there to form a bond than the marriage of one man’s daughter to another man’s son?

         My loyalty to my father and my country should be enough to force me into this marriage, but how can I, daughter of the King of Kyshia, ever be happy married to the Prince of Lequin? The same Lequin who has been at war with Kyshia sporadically for the better part of three centuries. There is no way on this earth I can ever be forced to go through with this ridiculous scheme.



æ1æ

         Under the pretense of a sentimental farewell to my homeland, I took my mare, Alstehus, and fled toward for the forest. The grove I am heading for has become my hideaway and sanctuary over the years. When I needed time away from the strict duties and restrictions of my, I ran to the woods. Trees couldn’t care less if I walked with my chin up, or if I addressed them according to their status. “Good evening, Lord Oak. How lovely to see you, Lady Maple.” The rigidness of society was just a distant ludicrous dream out here in the heart of nature. After nearly seventeen years of palace life, I could find my way to my grove even if I lost every one of my senses.

It was here in this grove that I asked Mehta to meet me. She, my constant companion since childhood, would be the only one who could help me out of this mess of a marriage.

I dismount near the edge of the forest and stray deeper into the woods. I allow Alstehus to wander where she wishes, for I know she will not go far. Surveying the area, I can see that the apple blossoms in full bloom. Further away, I hear the brook that meanders through the clearing sending a joyful tinkling through the crisp air. But these do little to cheer my melancholy mood. Any other time such beauties would have cheered me, but not today. For tomorrow I am to leave for Lequin, and I know that even if I manage to avoid this marriage, it’s likely that I won’t’ be able to return to my beloved homeland.

         I continue further into the grove and eventually decide to rest by the stream. An oak, long ago fallen in a winter storm, creates a suitable bench beside the gently flowing water. For several minutes, I am lost in my thoughts of the future, but I soon hear the pounding of hooves approaching from Shayen. Within a few short minutes, Mehta enters the clearing, leading her mistress’ aging mare gently by her reins. Before she even has a chance to acknowledge me, I race toward her and wrap her in a crushing embrace.

         “It’s nice to see you too, Siya,” she says with a light laugh. She adds an extra squeeze to the embrace before releasing me.

         “I’m sorry,” I say, taking a step back.

         “There’s no need to be sorry, friend. Now, what is it you called me here for?”

         “You obviously received my message, so you must already know I’m engaged to be married.”

         “Yes,” she said quietly. “It would seem congratulations are in order.” I shake my head forcefully at this, earning a quizzical look from Mehta.

         “I can’t marry him! I don’t even know him!”

         “Well, that is usually how an arranged marriage works,” Mehta said slowly, as if explaining something to a simpleton.

         “I don’t want to be married.”

         “Siya, it’s-“

         “No, let me finish.” Mehta nods once, and I continue, “I don’t want to be married. You’re the one who’s always dreamed of marriage. I have no desire to be wed, especially not in an arranged marriage.” She nods again, signaling that I should carry on. “You’ve always wanted to get married, and with your parents… well, they aren’t here to arrange a marriage for you, and you’ll have no dowry.” Mehta turns away with a sad look on her face. I pull her to face me and finish with, “I want you to go in my place.”

         “Siya,” she sighs, shaking her head. “You know I can’t do that.”

“But we look enough alike to pass for twins!” I insist.

“That’s not the point, Siya. I’m a servant, and you’re a princess. If I am discovered, I will be killed immediately. And do you have any idea what trouble that would cause with Lequin?”

         “We won’t be caught. Trust me.” She looks at me with her intense indigo eyes, nearly the same shade as my own, and I force myself to keep her gaze. She is the first to look away; I know she’s willing to go along. I wrap her once again in an embrace, and begin to reveal my plan to her.



æ2æ

I had not realized the time as Mehta and I conversed, combing over my plan and perfecting any flaws we discovered. Tomorrow morning all will go as my father wanted, at least to his knowledge. I’ll be the perfect submissive daughter. I’ll go along with my escorts- my father’s most trusted guards- through the city in the little parade my father has planned. It is here, during the final farewell procession, that my plan will be put into action.

I rehearse the details in my head as I cautiously steal into the castle, trying my best to keep my passing unobserved. I had already evaded three pairs of soldiers on my way from the servants’ entrance by the kitchens to the receiving hall. I’d found it necessary early on in life to memorize the paths of all the nighttime guards who patrolled past my curfew. I had just passed by the two soldiers at the bottom of the main staircase and was on my way up to my quarters when I heard my name called.

“Siya!” I turned to see my father hastily climbing the stairs to reach me. He stopped one step below me, and even then, I was forced to look up at him. “Where have you been? It’s nearly midnight!”

         “Forgive me, father. I got lost in the woods.”

         “The woods! What possessed you to travel there? You said you were going for a ride into the countryside. I was nearly prepared to send a troop of soldiers after you!” I could see his face grow increasingly red in the flickering light of the candelabra he carried.

         “I’m sorry to have worried you,” I said with a slight bow of my head.

         “Well, luckily it won’t happen again,” he said with a scowl.

         I nodded and curtsied as he brushed past me on the way to his own room. After a moment, I too decided to continue to my bedchambers. Now that I had been found out, I slipped my shoes back on and carelessly trudged up the stairs, no longer caring if anyone heard me.



æ3æ

         Cries of farewell pervade the city and assault my ears. The people of Kyshia have arrived from miles around to wish me success and happiness. Little do they know that my happiness will come only from the success of deception.

         I can tell Alstehus is uncomfortable with the procession. She is unaccustomed to the ornamental accessories she's forced to tolerate along with the load of my weighty, ceremonial gown. I know how she feels, for being forced to ride sidesaddle is not especially comfortable either. This cumbersome show of wealth and dignity, however, will be packed away as soon as we leave the sight of Shayen.

         My father has handpicked six of the Kyshian army’s best officers to accompany me to Lequin. Five I have rarely seen, let alone traveled with, before. I recognize the oldest as the General of the Army, a very confident- or foolish- choice. Four others I have seen occasionally; they are members of the constant rotation of guards posted in the throne room. However, the youngest, Ekohl, I have known since childhood. His father was a close friend and adviser of my own, and we often played together as children. Since his promotion to a royal guard, though, we rarely spend any time together.

         I notice the procession has nearly reached the city gates. I try to look around discreetly for Mehta, and do my best not to react when I see her ten yards away. These thirty feet of shouting, jubilant citizens seem to be the longest length of road I’ve yet traveled this morning.

         When I finally draw near Mehta, she drops to the ground directly in front of my horse. Startled, Alstehus is forced to an abrupt stop. Chaos ensues as the three guards behind me- and a few members of my immediate family who have followed in the procession- are forced to a halt as well. I feign surprise at the sight of my dear friend. I immediately slip from the saddle and rush to her side.

         My sudden disappearance into the crowd makes the guards very uneasy, and they rush through the throng to see what’s going on. They burst through a wall of people just as I wrap Mehta in a sorrowful hug. A stunned silence spreads from the epicenter of our embrace. No one knows what to make of this: a princess showing obvious affection toward a mere servant.

         “Siya,” my father’s voice booms. Right on cue. “What is going on?” He and his personal guard force their way to my side.

         “Forgive me, my Lord, but I have befriended this servant over the years, and I do not wish to part with her.” An audible gasp ripples through the crowd followed by whispering.

         “What would you have me do, daughter?” he said in a harsh whisper, glaring menacingly at me. “She must stay, and you must leave.”

         “Please, father, might she come with me?” A look of anger crosses his face, but in a moment, he conceals it.

         “Whose servant is this?” My father calls out abruptly.

         Murmurs rush through the crowd until finally Mehta’s master steps forward. She is an elderly healer, and highly respected in our city. My father converses with her quietly, then announces that Mehta is free to go with me. Applause rises from the gathered crowd, and Mehta and I grin like children at the success of our plan.

An extra horse is quickly brought from the palace stables for Mehta, and the procession continues the last few yards to the city gate. We left straight away, sparing one last glance at the alabaster walls of Shayen.



æ4æ

In a short time, we enter the forest where, several miles away, Mehta and I conversed late into the night a few hours prior. These woods cover nearly the whole of Kyshia’s borders, and much of its land, so we would spend much time within them on our journey. Shortly after entering the forest, the guards reorganized so there were three before and three behind Mehta and I.

Within the hour, we reached the army outpost nearest to Shayen. Wagons and a carriage have awaited us for a few days, loaded with all luggage and provisions that we would need. My father had planned this stop so the farewell procession would be lighthearted, joyous, and unhindered by the reality of a trip to Lequin.

The guards wear only ceremonial garments; their new armor- bearing the golden sun and stars of Kyshia- glows in the patches of sun, and they carry no saddlebags or weapons. I also am wearing formal clothing, though mine is more befitting of a princess. A large, ornate wedding gown, presented to me just this morning, was commissioned months ago by my father when the marriage arrangements had started. It was designed to show the glory of Kyshia, with cream and cerulean colored silk, gold thread, and sparkling jewels. During the farewell procession, I had to wear it to show the people, since none of them would ever see my nuptials.

As we came to a stop in the center of the enclosure, several of the soldiers came to assist us. Mehta dismounted right away, but I, with my cumbersome clothing, had to wait for help. One of the older soldiers helped me down, and then informed us that we would spend the night here. Mehta and I were passed off to a young trainee who led us to the grandest quarters of the outpost. On any normal day, the leader of this camp would occupy them. To accommodate the princess, though, the leader gave up his rooms. The boy led us there in near silence, merely informing us of the adjoined bathhouse before taking his leave.

Once left to our own devices, Mehta and I decided it was time to enact our plan. The sooner we switched places, the less chance there would be of someone noticing, so after a luxurious bath, we donned each other’s clothing. I chose a simple pale blue cotton dress for my role as a servant, and I had Mehta wear a practical, but elaborate, gown of navy and silver silk. I was thankful that there were no servants here to question our clothing choices, and the fact that this outpost is set apart from the capital city means there is little chance of any of the soldiers noticing anything amiss.



æ5æ

I checked and rechecked my hair nearly twenty times this morning. It felt strange to have it plaited instead of loose, but we decided that since our hair isn’t the same length, Mehta would wear hers up and I would wear a cloak and braids to disguise myself.

We checked over each other’s work a final time before heading out to the morning meal. We tried to keep from trembling from the anxiousness of possible discovery as we ate, but it was nearly impossible. Whenever someone noticed our unease, Mehta would just say we were nervous about the journey.

As soon as the meal was finished, we headed to the entrance of the compound. All the packing had been completed yesterday after our arrival. Most of the wagons carried food, supplies, my personal belongings, and gifts for the King of Lequin. It did not pass my notice that each saddle now carried a dagger and a sheaf of arrows in addition to the sword and bow that the guards carried. Now that we are outside the city, the guards are wearing the proper gear for a long trek through the forest. In addition to the weapons, they now wear practical boots, simple clothing, and dark green cloaks.

A carriage also awaited us. It had been prepared for me to ride in, with books and such to keep me occupied, but it was only made for one person to comfortably occupy. Luckily, Mehta, unlike most other servants, had been taught to read in order to help her former master with recipes for healing remedies. She would be well entertained. I, on the other hand, would be riding beside the carriage. My father had not planned for an extra woman to accompany me. This was fine with me though. I was more comfortable in a saddle than in a carriage anyways.

So with brief farewells between the guards and soldiers, we left the outpost and began our journey, taking the trail through the forests of Kyshia to Lequin that had lain dormant for decades.



æ6æ

I very quickly discovered that a dress is completely impractical for such a long journey. Sitting sidesaddle, I nearly fell off every few minutes. At home, I had only ridden like this when I was forced to by my father, and then only for short distances without the help of a specially designed saddle. Now, without the petticoats and undergarments I was accustomed to, riding like a man would be indecent as well as improper. For hours, I struggled with the saddle until finally we stopped to rest.

I half jumped and half fell off my horse as soon as we reached a small clearing so I could finally stretch my aching legs. This was worse than torture. During lunch, Mehta told me that her ride along the bumpy trail was rather rough, but not nearly as horrible as my own. We chatted about the book of the History of Lequin she had been reading, no doubt put there specifically by my father.

The atmosphere of the afternoon was light, yet all throughout the meal, I felt that we were being watched. We never caught any of the guards obviously eavesdropping, but we were careful to use our false titles anyways. Before leaving, I convinced Mehta to tell the guards we needed to wash up. She was very believable in her authority, and they allowed us to walk to the small stream a few yards from the trail.

“Did anyone follow us,” Mehta whispered. I carefully looked back, but everyone was packing the eating utensils and putting saddles back on the horses.

“No, I don’t think so.” Mehta let out a sigh of relief.

“I was so sure I’d slip up.”

“There wasn’t much opportunity, but we should still be on guard. One of them suspects something; I felt someone watching us during lunch.”

“Mehta,” she said and winked, “Don’t be so serious all the time!” She made sure to giggle loudly enough for the guards to hear. I was impressed. I smiled and leaned down to wash my hands. I don’t know if she was kidding or not, but I was determined to be extra careful.



æ7æ

The next half of the day passed much like the first half. We were still in Kyshia, so there would most likely be no threat of danger for many miles yet. As the sun began to set, the guards found a suitable clearing to camp in for the night. I checked on Mehta only to discover she had fallen asleep, so I quietly closed the door and helped set up camp.

The guards set the wagons in a circle around the perimeter of the clearing, then unsaddled the horses and, after allowing them a generous drink from the river, tied them to a lead rope near the wagons. In less than an hour, a fire had been built and four tents raised, one for Mehta and I and three for the guards. Supper, a simple stew of salted meats and dried vegetables, was already cooking and Mehta was still asleep, so I wandered off a few yards to the River Chysus that runs along the nearly the whole of this trail.

I finished washing my face and began lazily chucking pebbles into the river. Suddenly I heard something behind me purposefully approaching. Thinking it was some wild animal, I crouched down, unsheathed my hidden weapons, and turned around in a low defensive stance, but an instant later, I cursed myself for this reaction.

“Since when does a female servant of Kyshia travel so heavily armed?” I knew that voice. By the last rays of the setting sun, I could make out the familiar face of Ekohl, the youngest guard, and the only one who would see through my plan. It wasn’t until now that I realized my horrible miscalculation. Though we have spent very little time together in recent years, Ekohl knows me well enough that Mehta and I switching places could never fool him.

“Ekohl,” I sighed, defeated.

“You really thought you could fool me? We’ve been friends for ages.” Ekohl now stepped fully out of the forest, but he moved no closer.

“Please, Ekohl. You must understand.” I walked toward him, pleading with my eyes. To impersonate someone of a different social class was against the law, and, for Mehta, it would mean death.

“No, you must understand. It’s my duty as a soldier to turn you in to the King.” I lowered my face and tried to blink away the tears that were threatening to fall. “But…”

“But what?” I turned back toward the river for fear of crying in front of him

“It’s also my duty as a friend to help you.” Ekohl gently pulled me to face him.

“Thank you so much!” I couldn’t help but embrace him in my excitement. How could I ever think Ekohl would turn us in?

“You’re welcome,” Ekohl said with a chuckle. He returned the embrace, then pulled back and looked me in the eye. “Did you really think that I’d betray you?” he said with a smirk.

“You worried me for a second there.” I lightly punched his shoulder, and again he chuckled.

“I wasn’t entirely sure if it was you until I saw these,” he said, indicating one of my knives. “Not many people use these anymore.”I nodded and looked down at the knives. They were only half the length of a broadsword and a quarter of the weight. I acquired them behind my father’s back and honed my skills in secret. It took months to find someone who still practiced this form of combat, and they were well paid for their silence and their skills.

“Well, it’s easier to hide than a bow or a sword.”

“True.” He looked over my shoulder toward the campfire. I too looked and noticed the rest of the guards were scanning the woods for something. “We should get back. I told them I would find you. You really shouldn’t wander off without telling anyone.” I leaned down to reach the sheaths that were strapped to my calves.

When we returned to camp, Ekohl and I go our separate ways: he to the other guards, and I to Mehta, who had finally awaken. After a quick meal of meat and bread, Mehta and I went to bed, and the guards took shifts keeping watch over the camp through the night.



æ8æ

The guards woke us up before the sun the next morning. We emerged sluggishly and walked toward the ashes that had been the fire. Breakfast was leftover stew and bread from the night before. We ate quickly, not at all enjoying the reheated stew, but still finished after the guards. They began packing away tents and putting saddles and hitches on the horses before Mehta and I were even fully awake. 

Seeing Mehta yawn for the tenth time, I directed her to the carriage where she could sleep as long as she wanted. I walked back to the fire and gathered all the cookware, intending to wash them quickly before packing them away. I was creating a precarious pile of bowls and spoons when Ekohl approached with a smirk at my tower of dishes.

“I noticed you were having some trouble yesterday,” he explained, offering a pile of clothing. I rolled my eyes, but accepted the clothes and thanked him. I hurriedly changed before our tent was disassembled. Ekohl’s clothes were quite big on me, but the belt helped a bit. It felt strange to wear anything but a skirt or dress, but it would be much easier to ride in pants.

I had trouble figuring out what to do with my weapons at first. I could no longer keep them strapped to my calves for they would be easily noticed and too difficult to get quickly. If any of the guards saw the knives they would discover that I was not who I said I was; no servant would carry knives of this quality or expense. With great sorrow, I was forced to hide them in the carriage with Mehta where they would be of no use to me. I still carried a dagger concealed at my waist, but I felt vulnerable without the knives.

When I emerged the guards were a bit shocked to see my state of dress, but they just exchanged looks and shrugged before continuing with their work. We left shortly after I hid the knives, wrapped inconspicuously in my discarded dress, and I was immediately thankful for the pants. I could now ride normally on my horse’s saddle, not sideways like a woman. Today’s ride would much more comfortable than the previous day’s. I fell into step directly behind the carriage, and not once in the next two weeks did I come close to falling out of the saddle.



æ9æ

After two weeks of trees, winding trails, and stew for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we were finally nearing the border of Kyshia and Lequin. The monotonous evergreen changed to deciduous, and the occasional snow flurries to light drizzle. In the distance, we could just make out the towers of the Lequinian Wall.

Lying between two vast mountains, the Lequinian Wall stands as a door to the only pass through the mountain range. Other rough trails could be taken on foot, but any band of travelers between Lequin and Kyshia was forced to go through the Wall. It had been built to keep Kyshians out, but none of our people had ventured this close to the border since the beginning of the wars.

As we set up camp that night, less than a day’s ride from the Wall, we were all on edge. In Kyshia, there were numerous tales about the Lequinian bandits. The tales, which are mostly told to scare children, had been warped over the years, but even in their most watered-down form, they could cause even the bravest of men to be cautious. Historically, the Lequinian bandits were the very reason that Kyshians chose to abandon the border forests. Over the past few days, we could make out the collapsed forms of houses and barns, and, at one point, the trail led through what used to be a village. The dilapidated buildings were completely taken over by the forest now, but they were once the dwellings of thousands of Kyshians.

We set up camp in near silence, the only sounds coming from the horses as the uneasily stamped their feet. As night approached a fog descended over the forest, and it was decided that a second guard would be added to each watch tonight. We ate another meal of stew and stale bread and went to our tents, with the exception of the first two guards to take the first three-hour watch. Mehta passed the night in restless bouts of slumber, but sleep eluded my grasp. I listened to the sounds of the night: Mehta turning in her sleep, creatures of the night waking from their daily slumber, and the guards as they switched shifts.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I awoke suddenly sometime before dawn. I couldn’t recall what had awoken me. I lay still for a minute, trying to listen for anything amiss, but everything was silent. I left the tent Mehta and I occupied to get some fresh air. I noticed almost immediately that the camp was too dark. Looking around for a quickly I realized that the fire had gone out, and the moon, which shed little light this close to sunrise anyway, was choked by an even denser fog than was present last night.

The guards wouldn’t have let the fire go out. At each change of guard, the fire was stirred up and more wood added. The silence pressed in around me, and it dawned on me that I couldn’t hear the guards at all. Most nights I could hear their snores, and the guards that were awake usually sang or talked to keep themselves awake, but right now, nothing made a sound. I cold sweat sprang up my back and my heartbeat was suddenly the only sound in my ears.

I nearly tripped twice as made my way to where the fire was supposed to be. When I reached the fire pit, I passed my hand over the ash. It was stone cold, and not even a single ember remained. I touched a half-burnt log and found it was wet. The ground around me was still dry, so I knew it had not rained during the night. Another chill swept through me. What is going on?

I made my way to the nearest wagon and listened for the guards. I was starting to panic though; my heart was pounding like a blacksmith’s hammer, drowning out all other noises. I couldn’t see in the pitch black, and now I can’t hear. I turned with the intention of waking Mehta. The instant I turned around I ran into something solid. I started to backpedal, but before I had a chance a hand was clamped tightly over my mouth to keep me from screaming, and an arm lashed my own limbs against my torso.

“It’s okay, Siya. It’s just me.” Relief set in immediately when I recognized the voice of Ekohl. I relaxed my tense muscles, and he slowly released his grip on me. I reached up to move his hand from my mouth.

“W-what’s going on?” I was ashamed at the quivering of my own voice. I should have been calmer, and more aware of my surroundings, but fear had kept me from composure. Still holding Ekohl’s hand, I knew he could feel me trembling too.

“Just precaution,” Ekohl whispered close to my ear. “We heard a horn a few hours ago. It didn’t sound Kyshian, and it came from the north. We put out the fire to protect our position. All of the guards are taking this last shift.”

“That explains a lot.” I glanced around in the dark, knowing I couldn’t see but expecting bandits to emerge from the night.

“You should go to sleep.” Ekohl led my arm in the direction of my tent and tried to let go of my hand.

“No!” My voice sounded too loud. In the sudden silence that followed, I could hear the other men shifting all around the ring of wagons.

“What’s going on?” a harsh voice whispered from my left. During the day, I would have recognized the voice as belonging to the General, but at that moment, I gripped Ekohl’s hand all the tighter and moved next to him again.

“Nothing, sir,” Ekohl replied.

         “It better be. Keep that girl quiet, Ekohl, or you’ll wake the princess.” It was hard to believe that, though I couldn’t see a single thing, he knew exactly who we were.

         “Yes, sir.” I just barely heard footsteps retreating as the General moved back to his post, and, without another word, Ekohl led me back to his. I stood beside him, and we just stared into the dark forest, expecting danger at any second, until a barely noticeable lightening of the woods signaled dawn’s arrival.



æ10æ

Morning finally came with no cheer. The sun had to fight its way through the dense fog, turning sunrise into nothing more than a gradual change in light. No birds chirped in the forest, and camp was still eerily quiet. Even in the chill of morning, the guards were unwilling to relight the fire, so breakfast consisted of cold stew and bread.

Everything was packed away quickly and quietly. As we were loading the tents into a wagon, the fog let loose an icy mist. My fingertips were numb long before the last rope was tied and the final saddle strapped. I pulled up my hood and wrapped my cloak tightly around myself, trying to keep out the chilling mist, but it was useless.

The guards rode in a tight circle around the carriage. It was then, in this blinding fog and with so many unprotected wagons trailing behind us, that we realized that my father had been insane to send only six guards. The carriage was the most important thing to protect, of course. Everything in the wagons, for the most part, could be replaced. However, the life of the princess- the peace offering- was of vital importance.

Even riding just within reach of the carriage, I felt utterly unprotected. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the fog rolled in even thicker, cutting off my vision almost entirely. The mist also grew, turning into a shower of icy droplets. Within an hour, I was sure I would freeze to death. I had to clench my jaw just to keep my teeth from chattering constantly. I was flexing my fingers, trying to keep the icy blood flowing as I cling to the reins.

         Miles and inches were impossible to discern between. It felt like we had been traveling through this unnatural fog for years, yet I knew it was only hours. When we could bare the mist no longer, we stopped for a midday meal. Even if we had wanted a fire, it would be impossible. The relentless rain penetrated every log, stick, and twig it could wrap its icy grip around. Shivering in the cold, we silently consumed another cold meal, then continued our blind trek into the white abyss.