Norsen’s village isn’t like other villages. Nestled against the tree-line, it’s surrounded by a wire fence nearing eight feet tall. Just outside the fence, the river they’d been following rushes by in an ever-strengthening torrent. The water is clear and Solma sees huge fish battling the current. The village must have done well over winter with that bounty nearby. She turns her attention away from the fish and back towards the village.
Four rickety watchtowers mark the corners of the village border and a Guard in Gatra-black, gripping tight to the leash of an enormous dog, waves them through a gate that he opens with one slap of a big, black button on the fence post beside him. Solma frowns. She can’t recall any village they’ve been to yet that has enough power to run that sort of securi
