Sable's POV
Word spread through camp fast after that. By midday, half the Hollow had gathered near the fire pit, the burned scrap of leather passed hand to hand like proof nobody quite trusted until they'd seen it themselves.
"So what do we do with this?" Tomas asked, once most people had gotten a look.
"Depends what you mean by do," Rook said. "We're not marching on Ironclaw over a piece of leather."
"Nobody said march on anybody." Sela stepped forward, the same hard look she gave me that first night by this same fire. "But we've got proof a house inside Ironclaw's own walls sent trained killers after someone who ended up in our camp. That's not nothing."
"It's not proof of much beyond intent," Rook said. "We know the sigil. We don't know who gave the order, or why, not for certain."
