A cold chill brushed Barbara's spine when they were again moving. The wind, that had fanned their left cheeks since they'd started, was now full in their faces and Barbara bent her head against it. She had an overwhelming sense of something terrible about to be. It was as though a great, grim beast lurked in the overcast sky and was preparing to pounce on them.
Ellis set off at a canter, and Barbara's mount kept close at his heels. She sensed a difference in the horse. He too knew that a storm was on the way and he feared it. But he had an animal's blind faith in Ellis. The wind's whine became a savage snarl, and Barbara bent her head further. She looked up when Ellis shouted, and it was terrifying because he had to shout.
"Are you all right?"
She shouted back, "I'm all right."
"Don't worry."
She voiced her fear. "Don't—don't you think we'd better go back?"
"We'll never make it!"
The first snow came, a barrage of wind-driven pellets that stung her face and left her gasping. The day turned to twilight, and when she raised her head she could see only a few feet on either side. Just ahead of her, Ellis was a snow-shrouded figure. Time became meaningless, measureless. They moved on and on for how many minutes or hours she could not tell. The fury of the wind increased and breathing became more difficult. Barbara wanted to cry out and knew that she must not. The cold touched her body and seemed to penetrate her very bones. She was aware of Ellis shouting, and it seemed that he shouted from a very long way off.
"Give me your reins!"
Without question she put the reins in his outstretched hand and clung to the saddle horn. The horses were walking now, fighting the storm. Barbara knew a stabbing panic. Was this the end? Would this be the end of her life, before she had fully lived? The cold numbed her, so that there was no longer much feeling in her hands and face. She almost slipped from the saddle. Then she was aware of Ellis shouting again, and she saw him standing beside her.