Behind her she felt the gathering light of Skye and Mari. A storm had blown in at some point when they were traveling and the clearing had just been covered with a new wash of snow. The squall was still raining down heavily in the clearing, pelting the gathered light elves with snow, frosting their hair. “All of the snow is fresh,” Mari said. “And you think the harbinger and her group came through here?” “I know they did,” Celeste said. “This would be the defining moment. If they went right, they are headed to New Landanten and the harbingers. If they went left...” “Frost giants,” Skye said. Celeste pursed her lips. She didn’t want to think that Daniken would be leading them to the frost giants. Mari stepped forward, her left hand stroking her sun scepter. The staff made a resonant hum, and wherever Mari pointed it, the fresh snowfall was blown back, as if by a gentle breeze. Underneath they could see signs of a camp: a campfire long cold, indentations where people had slept, discarded rabbit pelts.
