The night's already coming down fast; the snow-filled sky has looked like evening since early afternoon, and there isn't much of the feeble daylight left. Which is just as well, as it means the armed guards now searching the edge of the forest have that much less light to see by. The three fugitives are able to slip away from them for now.

It's nearly full dark and snowing again by the time they find a barn to take shelter in. They've had to dodge two patrols from the castle, one on horseback; from a low hill they've seen torchlight moving through the town, red and threatening. But the barn isn't locked, and it's warm and musty-sweet with the smells of hay and grain. Two cows and a big draft horse eye them placidly and then return to munching their dinner.

"Should be safe," Percy mutters, and takes two faltering steps into the room before collapsing. Cassandra gives a tiny choked cry and drops to the floor beside him, pulling at his shoulder.