Daylight waned as Nora pressed her palm against the frigid parapet, eyes fixed on the swirling river below. The current—once her captor—had borne Leon's cloak to the downstream outpost of the Canglan scouts. Relief and dread warred in her chest. She rose stiffly, using the broken Canglan torch's embers to ignite a battered signal flare.
A distant horn answered. Through the gathering dusk, figures emerged on the far bank—scarred refugees and wolf-blood survivors rallied by Jorin. At their head strode a broad-shouldered scout bearing a carved staff: Joshua, the blacksmith's apprentice who had once saved Nora from Rudwick's lash.
Nora lowered the flare, heart pounding. The survivors formed a chain, passing makeshift stretchers and blankets to the water's edge. Joshua waded into the shallows
