All thoughts of adventure and the joy of the trail vanished as the days progressed. The boys were tired, sore, and dirty day in and day out; they only got a bath every other evening, usually a sketchy one in lukewarm water, and clean clothes even less often; their meals were quick and usually cold; and the company was hardly pleasant. Dana didn't speak much and usually looked as if she had regretted volunteering to bring children along with her on this journey, and the guards made Catame nervous. Daynoren was the only one who was remotely pleasant to be around, but often the older boy was lost in his own thoughts and wasn't much distraction for Catame from the pain in his legs and the fog of exhaustion he seemed to spend most of his waking hours in after the first few days.

The heat of the first day did not last. Every day of travel brought them further northward, farther from the humid hills and neighboring dry desert, closer to the mountains and further into winter. By the end of the first week they had reached the foothills of the great Ansaras Mountain range, and they were chilled by the end of the day, even wrapped securely in their cloaks. It was worse for Catame, who seemed to feel the cold more than the others. After ten days of riding, Catame could not seem to get warm, as if there was a core of ice within his bones that no amount of heat could thaw. Dana refused to slow further for him, despite Daynoren's arguments that he needed a chance to rest and recover from the travel so far. Catame was grateful for Daynoren's concern, but he didn't think just a day of rest would fix anything. As soon as they went out again in the chilly air of the low mountains at the edge of the Ansaras, all the good it would have done him would be undone. Better to endure than to trouble the others by wasting time with rest that wouldn't do any good, anyway.

One day at the end of their second week on the road, they were riding slowly across a narrow but mercifully flat valley between the tall hills on one side and the taller mountain ridges on the other, overshadowed by gray clouds and shivering under the heavier winter cloaks Dana had finally broken down and brought for them. Daynoren was finally comfortable on his mare, accustomed now to the long hours riding, but Catame was still in nearly just as much pain every day after upon reaching their inn as he was that first evening-- and there was not always a convenient pool of magic to draw from for support and soothing. He drew from Daynoren a couple times, but it wasn't quite the same, and it exhausted his brother so that Catame preferred to endure the soreness.

That morning had dawned gray, and there was a kind of clean, crisp chill to the air that Catame had never felt before. Despite his tiredness and the stiffness in his legs, it roused him into curiosity. He even tried sending his magical senses out into the wind, but there wasn't enough magic there for him to trace for more than a moment, so he drew himself back to the uncomfortable reality of the saddle and horse below him, and Daynoren riding beside him.

The half-doze that Catame had taken to riding in the past few days had nearly fallen on him again when something cold and wet landed on his nose. Startled, the boy shook his head vigorously, and looked up to see what had surprised him so. The sky was the same as it had been, a featureless, dim gray, with no birds in sight. Remembering, Catame thought that what he had felt seemed something like a raindrop, but it had been cold and light rather than warm and heavy, like the spring rains back home. A glance to the side showed that Daynoren had not noticed anything, again withdrawn into his own musings, letting his mare follow Dana's without his conscious direction.

Shaking his head again, more slowly this time, Catame nearly put the strange sensation down to his wandering imagination-- but then it happened again. This time the chill thing landed on his cheek, and when he brushed it away with his hand, he brought his fingers away with a small, rapidly melting bit of ice clinging to them. He stared in wonder, realizing what it had to be: a snowflake.

Looking up again, eagerly now, his discomfort momentarily forgotten, Catame waited for more snowflakes. That had to be what the strange scent and feel in the air meant, the imminent coming of snow. Catame had never actually seen snow before, that he could remember. Daynoren had told him that once when he was very young, too young to remember, and Daynoren only a little older, it snowed around the manor. It had been a particularly cold winter, but still the dusting of white on the rooftops and the grass had melted by the end of the day. The thought that this time he would actually see and remember the rare event of a snowfall, and likely a much more substantial one than what Day had described since this was the mountains, put all other unhappy thoughts out of Catame's head.

The boy's hopeful enthusiasm did not go unrewarded. Dana twitched ahead of them, brushing at her face as a snowflake landed on her cheek, and Daynoren looked around with the slightly dazed look that said he had been thinking quite deeply and wasn't quite sure what had interrupted his train of thought. More bits of snow were falling now, three hitting Catame's upturned face and smiling lips, more catching in the curls of his hair and dusting the shoulders of his cloak. It was an amazing feeling, like receiving so many chill kisses from so many tiny mouths, as if there were fairies in the wind brushing their lips to his face.

Daynoren looked skyward, as well, as snow started falling heavily enough to actually see it swirling around on the wind, and Catame could sense more than see that he, too, was caught up in the wonder of the alien falling stuff. The guards hunched down on their saddles, pulling up hoods and glaring at the sky, and Dana looked unhappy about the eventually expected but still unwelcome change of weather, but the boys flashed each other breathless grins and, without another word, reigned in their horses and clambered down from their saddles, Daynoren with an easy grace and Catame with a wince but still a smile.

"Boys!" Dana exclaimed. "What are you doing? Boys!"

They ignored her, tugging their horses reigns over the heads to dangle, effectively "ground-hitching" them. Catame tilted his head back, opening his mouth to catch snowflakes on his tongue. Daynoren was crouching, scooping some of the newly fallen snow out from the dry grass and into his hand, staring at it in curious wonder.

"Boys!" Dana tried again. "Catmae, Daynoren, get back on your horses this instant!" The guards wisely remained silent, though one cracked a smile at Catame, which Catame returned brightly. Dana turned her horse around, still insisting on perching side-saddle despite the length of their journey so far, but both boys ignored her. The ground was slowly turning a soft, shining white, and now Catame could feel more magic in the wind-- the light, playful touch of Air, and the damp, soothing sense of Water-- and it made him feel giddy and cheerful, more alive than he'd felt in days. It might have been affecting his brother, too, for Day shot him a sly look, grabbed up another handful of snow, and lobbed it at the younger boy, hitting him squarely in the chest.

"Daaaaay!" Catame exclaimed, scrambling, ignoring the protest in his legs, to gather enough of the soft, chilly snow to launch back at him. His snowball didn't pack as well as Daynoren's had, and it crumbled before reaching its goal. Day's next shot went wide, but Catame, now getting the hang of this snowball thing, got him in the knee-- he knew how to make them, but he stil couldn't aim very well.

"Catame!" Dana roared, struggling to free her feet from the side-saddle stirrups, "Daynoren, stop that right now! Do you here me? Do you-- aaiieeeeeeeee!" In her haste, the lady overbalanced on her gelding's back and toppled into the snow. The guards, who had been watching the boys' beginning snow fight with an indulgent sort of interest, broke into loud guffaws at the sight of their mistress pulling herself out of the wet snow, her hair coming undone from its bun and her skirts rumpled about her knees. Daynoren's silver laugh rose above theirs, and even Catame had to giggle as he hurried to try and help her up. She waved off his hand, looking irritable, and started to pick herself up on her own.

"I can rise myself, thank you," she said haughtily. Catame started to turn back to Daynoren and the actual fun, but suddenly his tunic tugged at his neck and something freezing was running down his back. He yelped and danced forward, trying to shake the lump of snow out-- only to get it stuck at his belt. The guards and Daynoren were laughing harder now, Daynoren actually doubled up and gasping for air, and even Dana, who had dumped the snow down his back, looked rather smug. Shivering but grinning and determined, Catame grabbed another double-handful of snow and splattered it across her satisfied face.

After that, it degenerated into a brief but furious snow fight between the three Danuis, over which the guards kept score and finally declared Daynoren to be the winner. They reached their inn a little later and a little wetter than anticipated that night.