Survival trumps romance. I know today is going to be another long day of hiking through the snow and my body is already protesting. By first light I want to get it over with. I can’t stay cooped up in the tent any longer. My stirring wakes Zain. He looks over at me, and my eyes widen. It’s still strange seeing him without his glamours, and in the orange light of the tent it looks even stranger. He half-smiles and grabs his beanie, pulling it down over his hair self-consciously. “Okay,” he says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Let’s pack up quickly and then I’ll use one magic spell to try to find the way home. I think it’s worth ruining a wand for that.” I’m already stuffing my sleeping bag into its sack, and then burying it deep in my backpack. We debate abandoning the tent; the loose guy rope ripped the outer sheet as it whipped around so ferociously in the wind. But there’s the unspoken reality that we might need it again—another night on the mountain.
