On a day when breathing itself became painful from the dryness and cold of the air, Voran finally saw a change in the landscape.
The mountains were gathering into pillars of stone, shrinking lower and lower as the land sloped downward into a distant promontory that shone dully green in the distance. Finally, Voran recognized where they were.
Just ahead of them, about a day’s journey away, stood a needle-sharp crag surrounded by flatland. The Fang. They were approaching Karila from the west, from the long spur of the mountains that began in Vasyllia and formed the border north-to-south between lands belonging to the Three Cities and the lands known only as the Great Wild further west.
Seeing the Fang, Voran stopped, frozen by cold and indecision.
“What’s the matter?” the Raven asked, st
