The air over the ridge was sharp with woodsmoke.
From their vantage point, Elinora could see at least a dozen camps scattered across the rolling hills. The nearest one sat in a shallow basin, ringed by rough wooden palisades. Even from here, she could make out the figures moving inside — tall, broad-shouldered, armed, and not dressed like any Keep or Nightblood warrior she’d seen before.
Her wolf’s ears twitched. They don’t wear the courts’ colors.
Riven crouched beside her, scanning the camp with the careful patience of a hunter. “They’re organized. Not raiders. Not wandering packs.”
Kaelen stood just behind them, shadows curling at his boots. “And they’ve built enough fortifications to expect trouble. The question is — from who?”
A gust of wind carried the camp’s scent to her — leat
