The plateau stretched out like a forgotten battlefield, wind-scoured and littered with the bones of trees long dead. Sparse tufts of grass clung to shallow soil, bending beneath the same wind that pulled at the Scouts' cloaks. The sky above was wide, raw with light, clouds moving quick as if chased.
Tian Shen set the pace, not hurried, but never still for long. The pass behind them felt narrower now in memory, a tunnel that might close the moment they turned back. The plateau offered no such comfort — here, there was no shelter, no walls, no orchard canopy to soften the air.
Feng Yin walked just behind him, eyes scanning the horizon. The plateau seemed flat at first glance, but its surface was cut with sudden gullies and ridges. Too many places for something to watch from.
