Chapter Thirty-Five: The High Camp
Riley
The rain had not been kind to the campsite.
I crouched in the middle of what had been a fire pit and was now a shallow puddle of grey ash soup, and tried to find something useful in it. The ground around it had been churned to mud by the rain, whatever footprints there might have been long since dissolved. The rock shelf on the south side had protected a narrow strip of ground from the worst of it, but even there the evidence was thin.
Donal was moving around the perimeter with his usual quiet thoroughness. Finn was examining the rock shelf. Corbin was doing something near the tree line that involved a great deal of crouching and nodding.
“Two people here,” Corbin announced. “Maybe three.”
“Definitely three,” Finn said, without looking up.
“T
