Chapter 111: Last Week of Peace
The road to Gorthmorde unfolded long and pale beneath the afternoon sun.
The last of the foreign hills faded behind them, replaced by broad golden fields and distant dark forests that marked the edge of her grandfather's domain.
The air smelled of turned earth and pine, clean and old, the kind of scent that seeped into Hannah's bones and made her chest tight with something she could not yet name.
Hannah rode at the front of the small company, Bess's hooves falling steady on the dirt road.
Bart and Theron rode not far behind, speaking quietly of patrol routes and border guards.
Mimi tended to a small potted healing herb in the carriage, and Mike had long since given up complaining about travel, dozing on a pile of packs.
Billy was safe at the sanctuary, his memory soft and warm rather than sharp with fear.
