Four days north of Ossara, the trees finally stopped spiraling.
They started leaning instead.
All of them.
Same direction.
The trunks bent at slightly different angles, but every crown tilted north-east as though some ancient wind had passed through the forest and convinced the entire region to remember it forever.
Valerica had noticed the pattern from the ridge weeks ago.
Nobody had explained it then.
Nobody had explained it now.
Nobody had found much else worth explaining either.
Mostly, they walked.
For once, the walking was the entire event.
By the fourth evening, Ashe dropped her pack beside the camp with enough force to make everyone look over.
"I've decided this counts as training."
Valerica glanced up from the map.
"Walking."
"Walking without complaining."
Ashe rolled one shoulder.
"That's the discipline. Kest would be proud."
Isole crouched beside the fire, trying to persuade damp kindling that combustion was still a reasonable thing to do in this world.
