They established a camp on the broken shelf above the mouth of the canyon, out of the line of the worst ash wind and within distance of a clear opening should another pack come up the road.
No one slept immediately. Binding wounds, cleaning weapons, the two tokens in Zeus's possession lay heavy in their differing ways: Nyxara's dark seal taken from the watch-post, Vespera's blood-smeared disk from the floor of the canyon. Athena noted both on every pass of her hand near them. She made no comment yet. Silence was its own weight.
Nyxara finished resetting a perimeter charm and wiped her blade of serpent oil. Vespera settled cross-legged opposite the low fire, her hooked weapon across her knees, the crimson wraps darkened with ash and drying blood. They had fought the same battle hours ago. That did not equal softness between them.
"You set a claim token on him quickly," Nyxara observed.
Vespera did not look up from her work. "You planted your mouth on him more quickly."
