Page 75 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

Garrett pulls up near a rocky outcropping that offers some shelter from the wind. “We’ll need to find their trail before we go deeper.”

I dismount and close my eyes, extending my senses. The wind carries a thousand scents. I filter through the pine, animal musk, and old earth, searching for something recent.

There.

Faint, almost lost beneath the natural smells of the mountains. But unmistakable once I find it.

Five Valorian knights passed through here recently. Within the last few days. I can smell the leather of their armor, horses and unwashed bodies.

I open my eyes and point northeast, toward a narrow gap between two peaks. “They went that way. Into the mountains.”

Garrett looks where I’m pointing, his expression grim. “You’re certain?”

“Yes.” I glance at the fading light. “But I can’t track them properly in the dark. I’ll lose the trail.”

“We make camp then,” Garrett says, dismounting. His voice is steady, practical. “Find shelter for the night and start fresh in the morning.”

We settle on a small clearing protected on three sides by rock. Garrett tends to the Noctrals while I gather firewood. We divide the work without speaking. I head into the treeline and search for dead branches. I gather an armful, then search for kindling beneath rocky overhangs where snow couldn’t reach. The work is mindless and it gives me something to do with my hands.

By the time I return, Garrett has the Noctrals settled and is laying out our bedrolls. The sky is deep purple now, stars beginning to emerge. I build the fire in silence, arranging the wood and striking flint until sparks catch. The flames grow slowly, crackling and spitting.

“This was Wolven territory once,” Garrett says suddenly, as if reading my thoughts. He’s staring into the growing fire, his face half in shadow. “The Ironhide Clan, I think. They controlled this entire region for centuries.”

Something cold settles in my chest. “They’re gone now.”

He glances at me and I see the question forming. “They were all wiped out nearly a century ago. Did you know them?”

“No.”

I don’t elaborate or mention that my own clan met a similar fate. That I’m one of the last survivors of the Sylverin clan. They’re all scattered to the winds or were killed when I was barely old enough to remember their faces. Some things are better left unspoken.

Garrett is quiet for a moment, watching me. “Is it hard? Being here?”

I nod once and turn my attention to unpacking rations, making it clear the conversation is over.

He doesn’t push for more. Dinner is silent. The jerky is tough and the bread harder. I wash it down with fresh water. The fire burns between us, throwing dancing shadows across the rocks.

“Tomorrow we go in,” Garrett says finally, staring into the flames. “We find them and end this.”

I don’t voice the thought circling in my head.

What if this thing he’s started has no ending? Maybe it just keeps spiraling out until it consumes him completely.

I arrange my bedroll across from Garrett, the fire a barrier between us. The cold is already seeping up from the ground. I’m checking my weapon when Garrett speaks again.

“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” he begins, forcing lightness into his tone. “About tracking. How far can you—”

I ignore him and focus on examining a knife’s edge, testing the sharpness with my thumb.

“Wolf?”

I set down the knife and pick up another one, checking the balance.

“Are you really going to ignore me all night?”

Yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.

I hear him shift on his bedroll, the rustle of fabric. “I know you’re angry with me. But we’re going to be traveling together for days, and—”