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I was a day out of Banwa town, and I had yet to see another soul on the muddy road beside the river. It likely would not have made a difference—Bran was a steppe horse, an exceedingly rare sight this far south. Any other traveler would have been just as much at a loss as I. 

I took him down the riverbank and into the snow-fed water, letting it cool his legs and his belly. He rallied after a few minutes, and we continued on our way, but after an hour he slowed again, panting. 

Aysulu would have known what to do. But she was half a world away, and I had not seen her in more than a year, since I had left Phyreios. Bran had been her last gift to me. I considered, briefly, leaving him, or selling him in the hopes that he would find his way into the hands of someone who could better care for him, but as soon as the thought came to me, I pushed it aside. He deserved better, as did Aysulu’s friendship, and I feared he was the only thing keeping me from the madness of solitude as I traveled alone in this strange land.