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Over the canyons, the clouds melted into the fog of the horizon, hiding a distant view of the Sea of AyRuh. The painted cliffs that followed the carving, twisting river far below were streaked in red, grey and slate blue, highlighted with stripes of sagebrush and evergreen trees. The stubborn trees were determined to cling to the crevices wherever they found a vein of soft earth between the steep rocks. Their branching forms twisted out of the rock faces and then curved up towards the sky, like the claws of a woody beast stuck under the stones.
Zenobia knew this land, knew each crevice and cave, each delicate and dangerous ledge, and the trails that nimbly danced around them. She even remembered trails from the past that, after holding out for years in the howling wind and merciless r
