Only The Strong -

"No," Elias said, his voice quiet but cutting through the wind. "We keep the packs."

Instead, Elias was there. He wasn't moving fast, but he wasn't stopping. He used a rhythmic, swaying gait that utilized the weight of the pack rather than fighting it. His eyes were fixed not on the horizon, but on the very next inch of ground. Only the Strong

Elias and Kael were three days from the nearest village when the blizzard hit. They were "Strong-Men," professional haulers hired to carry delicate medicinal roots across the pass before the freeze. Kael was the specimen of the title—broad-shouldered, young, and capable of carrying eighty pounds without breaking a sweat. Elias was older, wiry, and moved with a hitch in his left hip. "No," Elias said, his voice quiet but cutting

Elias took half of Kael’s load, layering it onto his own. He looked like a broken crane, bent nearly double under the impossible mass. Yet, he moved. Step. Breathe. Step. He used a rhythmic, swaying gait that utilized

They pushed on. Kael leads at first, his raw power forcing a path through the deepening drifts. But an hour in, the cold began to leach the fire from his muscles. His breath came in ragged gasps. Every time he stumbled, the heavy pack threatened to pin him to the ice forever. He looked back, expecting to see Elias collapsed in the snow.