Midnight Frost

easily enough on the south side of the courtyard, right where Rachel had said it would be. Before we’d left the park, Rachel had given each of us a map of the mountain, the ruins, and the various trails, so I dug that out of my backpack and tried to make sense of all the squiggles, lines, and symbols.
    “It looks like the trail down this side of the mountain is twice as long as the one coming up, just like Rachel said,” I muttered. “Wonderful.”
    Logan didn’t say anything. He was still being careful to stay at least five feet away from me at all times. I put the map back into my pack, grabbed my gloves out of it, and zipped it up. Then, I pulled my gloves on and started down the trail. After a moment, Logan fell into step behind me.
    It was slow going, just like Rachel had said it would be. The trail was so steep and narrow that we had to be careful with every step we took or risk our feet going out from under us and starting a slide that would be hard to stop—if not impossible. It would be all too easy to slip right off the edge of the trail—and fall hundreds of feet to the rocks below.
    For some reason, the wind was more intense on this side of the mountain, until it almost seemed like fingers constantly clawing at my jacket, scarf, toboggan, and gloves. I bundled up as best as I could, but nothing seemed to keep out the cold that crept into every corner of my clothes, boots, and even down into my socks.
    And then there was the snow.
    It picked up speed and intensity with every passing minute. We hadn’t even been walking an hour, and there were already several inches on the ground. The only reason I could still see the trail was because it was the only part of the mountain that wasn’t covered with trees.
    Logan didn’t talk, and neither did I. We didn’t want to waste our breath or energy. Even as we picked our way down the steep slope, I scanned either side of the trail, trying to find someplace where we might find shelter from the snow for the night. Five feet to my left, the land dropped away in a sheer vertical drop, so no help there. Five feet to my right, a solid row of pine trees ran alongside the path, and I had no way of knowing how far we might have to go into the forest before we found a cave—or if we’d even find one. All I could see was snow, rocks, and trees. So we walked on.
    We’d gone maybe two miles down the mountain when I realized Logan wasn’t keeping up with me anymore. He had maintained his distance, but I couldn’t even hear him shuffling along in the snow behind me. I turned around and realized he was about fifty feet behind me, staggering around like he was drunk. For the first time, I noticed his black snowsuit had a wet, almost shiny spot on it—right where the roc had stabbed him with its beak. A sick, sinking feeling filled my stomach as I worried he was hurt worse than he’d let on—a suspicion that was confirmed a moment later when I saw the blood dripping off the ends of his fingers and spattering onto the ground.
    “Logan?”
    “Sorry,” he said, lumbering toward me, his face white with pain. “I don’t think . . . I can . . . go . . . any farther . . .”
    He crumpled to the snowy forest floor.

Chapter 30
    “Logan!”
    I raced over to the Spartan and dropped down on my knees beside him. He smiled up at me, but I only had eyes for his wound. I carefully lifted his hand and pushed aside the tattered edges of his snowsuit and his clothes underneath so I could get a look at his injury. The roc had left a deep, ugly gash in his left side—one that kept oozing blood.
    “Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked.
    “I didn’t want you to worry,” he rasped. “I was going to get Daphne to heal it after we left the ruins.”
    Daphne wasn’t here—but I was. I might not have her healing magic, but I’d picked up some first-aid skills at Mythos. That was another thing Coach Ajax drilled us on in gym class, along with weapons training. I slung my backpack off my shoulders, unzipped it, and rummaged through the items inside until I found two extra gray turtlenecks I’d brought along. I used Vic to slice up the turtlenecks and placed a couple of squares of fabric over the wound. Then, I wrapped the rest of the cloth all the way around Logan’s waist and tied the whole thing together as tightly as I could. I tried not to notice how quickly the blood seeped through the fabric, even as I helped Logan put his clothes and snowsuit back in place.
    “You