“If we take the ridge, you lose your convoy, and Kroll gets his supply line through.”

Dante stared at me for a long second, then nodded to Gregory.

“Change of plans,” Dante said. “Follow the girl.”

I pulled on Vesper’s left rein, guiding her off the main path and into the thick brush.

The branches scraped against my leather jacket.

I relied on my memory of the trees, the bend of the creek, and the smell of the damp earth.

“Left here,” I whispered, leaning forward.

Vesper turned instantly, her ears pricked toward the darkness.

She trusted me, and I trusted her.

The descent into the valley was steep and slippery.

The ground was covered in wet leaves that made the horses slide.

I leaned back in the saddle, keeping my weight off Vesper’s forelegs.

She navigated the rocks with perfect balance, her hooves finding secure footholds in the dark.

Behind us, Gregory’s horse stumbled, but the rider recovered quickly.

“How much further?” Dante asked, his voice barely louder than the wind.

“Five minutes,” I said. “The trail meets the old logging road at the bottom.”