Branches lashed against cloaks and armor as the Ravaryn riders plunged deeper into the Wolfswood.
Snow thickened beneath the hooves of their horses, muffling sound but slowing their escape. The forest closed around them like a living wall of black trunks and hanging shadows.
Behind them, horns still echoed.
Bolton horns.
Ser Halric rode close to Corvyn's side, his breath heavy in the cold air.
"They're not giving up," he said grimly.
Corvyn did not slow Shade.
"They won't," he replied. "Not after tonight."
Another horn sounded.
Closer.
The Bolton riders had begun their pursuit.
Corvyn glanced over his shoulder briefly.
Through the falling snow he could see flickers of torchlight weaving through the trees.
Too many lights.
Halric noticed it too.
"They're spreading out," the knight muttered. "Trying to box us in again."
Corvyn nodded.
"They know the forest well enough."
The riders continued forward for another minute before Corvyn suddenly raised his hand.
"Stop."
The group slowed quickly, horses snorting clouds of frost into the night.
Halric frowned.
"This seems like a poor place to rest."
Corvyn turned in the saddle, scanning the narrow forest path behind them.
"They expect us to run together," he said quietly.
Halric's expression sharpened.
"Which means…"
"We don't."
Several riders looked toward Corvyn in confusion.
The young lord's voice remained calm.
"They outnumber us. If we ride as one group, they'll eventually trap us again."
Halric slowly nodded.
"Divide and disappear."
Corvyn pointed toward two different paths splitting between the trees.
"Five riders go east. Five more south. The rest with us west toward Ravenhold."
One of the men hesitated.
"And if they catch us alone?"
Halric answered before Corvyn could speak.
"Then you make them regret it."
A few grim smiles appeared among the riders.
Corvyn drew Nightfeather slightly from its sheath, the blade reflecting pale moonlight through the trees.
"Ravenhold will hear of this," he said quietly. "The Boltons did not come here by accident."
Halric glanced back toward the distant horns.
"No," he agreed. "This smells like something bigger."
Corvyn pushed Nightfeather back into its sheath.
"Move."
The riders separated quickly, disappearing into different paths between the towering pines.
Within moments the forest swallowed them.
Corvyn and Halric led the remaining men westward through the snow.
Behind them, Bolton riders burst into the clearing they had just left.
Torches flared.
Voices shouted in anger.
A moment later Ser Roderic Bolton rode into the clearing.
He studied the scattered tracks in the snow.
Then he smiled slowly.
"They think they escaped," he said softly.
One of his soldiers shifted uneasily.
"My lord… should we follow?"
Roderic turned his horse toward the western trail.
"Oh, we will follow," he replied.
His smile widened.
"After all… the night is still young."