A caravan left the manor with quiet confidence.
Four wagons carried sacks of grain and salted meat. Ten merchants chattered loudly with relief after weeks of rumor. Mira commanded three archers and two wolves at the flanks. The new waystation at Greystone Pass had been stocked the day before, its roof still smelling of fresh timber.
It should have been safe. But safety never lasted long. The trouble began while on the road. Half a day before reaching Greystone Pass, one of the lead wagons lurched sharply.
"The wheel's come loose!" the wagoner cried.
Mira dismounted at once. She knelt by the wheel, frowning at the smooth edges where the pins had been cut. "This wasn't worn," she muttered. "Someone tampered with it."
Merchants clustered nervously. "Sabotage?"
Before Mira could answer, arrows hissed from the ridge.
"Take cover!" she barked.
