The horn echoed again. It was a long, low sound that didn't just travel through the air; it vibrated through the earth and settled into the marrow of everyone's spine like a transfusion of cold water.
The training atmosphere in the clearing shattered. The forced calm vanished, replaced by the sharp, rhythmic sound of quickening breath and the scraping of boots against frost. The emotional shift was so violent that Alistair felt it physically—a wall of invisible waves rippling through the group.
For the first time, the metaphors died. He understood exactly what Asarmose had meant by "biological pressure."
