We dismounted and tied the horses in a thicket. Darius crouched at the edge of the trees and studied the layout. Kane checked his knives. Rylan loosened the axe in its sheath. I stood between them, cloak heavy with rain, blade already in my hand.
Niskanen's quarters sat near the longhouse, third door on the left, same as always. A single lantern burned in the window even though the sun had cleared the hills. She was awake.
The bond hummed between us, steady and hungry.
We moved down the slope single file, boots silent on the wet grass. The air smelled of woodsmoke and roasting meat and the faint metallic tang of old blood I could never quite wash from my memory. My heart beat hard against my ribs but my hands stayed steady.
We reached the tree line at the edge of the fields. Shadowpine lay spread out in front of us, close enough to hear the low voices of the morning patrol and the clang of a hammer from the forge. Niskanen's door was visible now, closed but not barred.
