Chapter 70: The Heart of the Mountain
The sun rose over the peaks.
It did not bring warmth. The light was pale and thin. It only served to illuminate the dust and the decay of the Old Fortress.
I sat up on the furs. My breath puffed out in a white cloud. The portable heater was trying its best but the stone room was massive. It swallowed the heat instantly.
I looked at the doorway.
Victor was still there.
He had not moved an inch in eight hours. He sat with his back to the frame and one knee pulled up. His eyes were open. They were fixed on the dark hallway. Frost had formed on his eyelashes.
"Victor," I whispered.
He did not turn. His ear twitched. He was listening to the wind. He was listening for footsteps that were not there.
"You are frozen," I said. I pulled the furs around
