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Rook cupped her cold and numb fingers to her mouth, blowing into her hands in a futile effort to warm them against the frigid temperature.  The shackles around the ranger's wrists rattled, but the noise was barely audible over the constant creaking and rattling of the barred carriage that bore herself and the other prisoners along the forest road.  

A flurry of snow blew in on them until her shoulders were damp through her linen shirt, her cloak lost in the foothills of the Pendar Mountains where the agents of Lord Octa had finally caught up with her.  She felt a flutter of nervousness again at the idea of what might await her at Lord Octa's fortress; there was little doubt that's where they were headed.  The man had a reputation of being ruthless in his interrogation methods.  

Lost in despairing thoughts, Rook snapped her head up in surprise when a panicked shout went up from outside their cage.