Red smoke hung over the trench. Pei Jing vaulted the low wall and landed in a snowdrift below. He rolled once, came up on his feet, and took the slope toward the pines. The broad face of the Nine-Fold Astral Bone Blade cut some of the wind off his back.
The soapstone flask at his left hip gathered frost. The lead gourd at his right gave off a slow heat. His Five-Elemental Chaos Root drew on both, keeping the cold from reaching his ribs and the heat from burning his belt. With every stride, the balance grew easier to hold.
Three hundred paces below the ridge, he entered a gully choked with snow and pine branches. The war horn changed to short, quick notes. Seven pairs of blue eyes came over the crest.
Frost-Marrow Wolves. The great beasts ran on top of snow that swallowed Pei Jing to his knees. Their riders wore pale chain mail and carried bows and lances. The first wolf put its nose down as it reached his tracks. The others fell in behind it.
Pei Jing stopped under a black cedar. His left fingertips were still numb. He took a warming pill from his collar and let it melt on his tongue. Bitter musk filled his mouth. By the time he could feel his fingers again, the lead riders were in the gully.
