Or was it hours? It felt like it to the 16 year old. Keep going, he growled at himself, forcing himself to take another step. The cold was creeping in on him, biting through his clothes and numbing his entire body. The ground had long since been covered and when the young stallion looked over his shoulder at the trail behind them, his hoofprints were already fading. The snow, which had been falling gently when they had appeared in the northern reaches of the Great Eastern Wood, was now whipping past them in waves of freezing, stinging crystals. It had been almost 18 hours since Shining Armor had teleported, and his energy was almost nonexistent.
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