His horse spun.

Nervously, the animal's hooves kicked up the snow all around and the rider started to share his mount's angst. Darkness had settled in, and the long, spindly, leafless branches high above still managed to choke off nearly all of the moonlight. As such, his path was unclear, although the general direction was still fresh in his mind - his destination however, was not. To the west lay his original orders, to the east, the possible promise of refuge. The woods had claimed more than one unweary traveler in nights past, and he certainly did not want to join those ranks.

He looked down at the parcel he carried, and wondered a loud "Is this really worth it?"

The horse turned about again, wanting its master to choose a direction. The shadows were closing.

"We both know where we are going," he said, drumming his fingers on the hilt of his short sword. "The real question is, will we meet with our runner in a few weeks or not?"