The trek down the ridge was dead silent.
Ronan took the lead, his eyes constantly scanning the dense pine thickets. Lucci walked half a step behind Rhea, his attention sweeping the high rocks above them.
They pushed faster down the mountain. By the time the timber rooftops of the town appeared beneath the ridge, the sun was sinking behind the western peaks.
The familiar sight of the town made Rhea's throat feel tight. But coming back now, after everything in the Hollow, it looked like a place built of half-truths.
Her childhood home sat at the quiet edge of the lower district, backed against the forest line.
The path leading toward it was completely quiet.
Ronan slowed his pace, his hand dropping to the pommel of his blade. "Hold up."
Rhea stopped. "What is it?"
"Too quiet," Lucci
