And there, past a veil of haze in the south, they saw it. Til's tears fell like the rain. "The southern coast," she whispered. The rain fell before her in warm curtains, and mist floated across the forested hills and valleys. The sun glowed behind the veil of clouds. There was no snow here in the south, and the air was rich, warm, scented of trees and soil and the distant sea. A healthy smell. The smell of life. A distant city rose by the water, still leagues away, a day's walk. Only a few of its towers rose through the mist, overlooking the sea. "We made it." She hugged her brother. "We reached the coast. We'll find safety here." Bim stared south with her, the rain streaming down his hair and face, washing away the dirt of their journey. His makeshift patches of armor, strapped across his furs, gleamed wet, and he rested his palm on the pommel of his sword. For the first time in months, perhaps in years, hints of hope showed on his face. It was subtle; anyone else would have missed it.
