Chance
The western road curved through pine and frost-burned brush, quieter than the inner territory. Hoofbeats struck frozen earth as Branik’s unit moved north toward the storehouses. The wind carried timber and river water instead of stone and corridors.
Chance had expected relief when they crossed the boundary. Instead, he felt exposed.
The bond did not continue to strengthen. It did not brighten or warm. It stretched faintly, thin but present, before settling into something restrained and distant. Whatever stood between him and Hope had not dissolved fully with geography.
He told himself that was safer.
Branik rode beside him for the first mile without speaking. The older guard’s beard was threaded with gray, his shoulders broader than his patience. He was the kind of man who noti
