Chapter 185: What Passes Between Hands
Old Greyeye Outpost, Laboni Border
Urim's POV
The warriors had been at the burial work since what felt like an age.
Their thick, calloused hands made short work of the partially frozen earth, forcing open ground that resisted them with the usual kind of stubbornness a soil that had absorbed too much blood retained.
I walked the jagged rows they had already finished. Raal stayed a step behind me, his heavy boots crunching against the snow that fell from the edges of White Mountain earlier today.
Both of us kept our mouths shut, letting the silence of the yard speak for the dead.
Brak the Grim's grave sat entirely apart from the smaller mounds. It was larger, dug deep into the bedrock, and marked with a massive boulder that none of our people had bothered to argue about placing.
The horn captain had earned that stone.
