From a hill overlooking a valley already bathed in shadows, Gigi scanned the lowlands, watching the Roman soldiers who held Magnus. She wished she had the strength in numbers to sweep down into their camp and rescue him. But that was only a fantasy. She knew, until they reached Ravenna, all she could do was follow them, watch, and wait. Gigi blew on her hands to ward off the cold. Standing in a copse of trees, she pulled close the heavy wolf-skin cloak draped over her shoulders. She didn’t dare light a fire for warmth, as the soldiers had done, but the fur kept her warm enough. The temperature had fallen drastically after she left the Visigoth camp, and snowdrifts were a foot deep by the end of the first day. Now, three days later, the wind had stopped howling, but the snow was two feet deep, and her horse had to move slowly, choosing his footing with care. At first, the frigid weather had worried her, but she soon realized the snow provided two huge benefits; it was far better than soaking rain, and it made a simple task out of tracking her husband and his abductors.
