Aidan hiked and hiked and as he crested a hill, he saw a road stretched out before him, well-traveled in the snow, heading south. Finally out of sight of the guards, he burst into a sprint, determined to get as far away as he could before they found out and came after him.

Aidan ran as fast as his little lungs could take him, until he was gasping for air. Stung by the cold, by the vast, empty landscape, he wished that Leo was by his side now, and regretted giving him back to Kyra. He wondered how far he would get. He never found out where his father was, but he knew, at least, that he had gone south, and he would head in that direction. He had no idea how long his legs could take him before they gave out, or before he froze to death. He had no horse, and no provisions, and already he shook from the cold.

Yet he did not care. Aidan felt the exhilaration of being free, of having a purpose. He was on a journey, like his father and his brothers and Kyra. He was a real warrior now, under the protection of no one. And if this was what it meant to be a warrior, then this was what he would do. He would prove himself—even if he had to die trying.

As he hiked and hiked, it made him think of his sister. How could Kyra possibly cross all of Escalon? he wondered. Was Leo still at her side?

Aidan ran and ran, following the road until it took him to the edge of the Wood of Thorns. He suddenly heard a noise behind him, and he took cover behind a tree.

Aidan peeked out and saw a wagon approaching on the road, heading south. A farmer sat at its head, the wagon pulled by two horses and trailing a cart full of hay. It rattled and bumped on the rough road, and it looked terribly uncomfortable. But Aidan didn’t care. That wagon was heading his direction, and as he pondered his already-aching legs, he knew that was all that mattered.

Aidan quickly pondered his options. He could ask the farmer for a ride. But the man would likely refuse, and send him back to Volis. No. He would have to go about it another way. His own way. After all, wasn’t that what it meant to be a warrior? Warriors did not ask permission—when honor was at stake, they did what they had to do.

Aidan waited for the right moment, his heart pounding, as the wagon neared. He waited until it passed him, barely able to contain his excitement, his impatience, the sound of its jostling so loud it filled the air. Then, as soon as it passed him, he jumped out from behind the tree and ran after it.