Chapter 12

• The broad, level river bottom was a land of contrasts. By day, the ancient willows_ those yellow-green outcasts among the dying, parched vegetation_ stretched their limbs in unnatural defiance across the barren mountain-desert. As twilight descended, these sentinel trees seemed to wither into mournful silhouettes, their trailing branches whispering secrets like the hushed voices of long-forgotten ghosts. Even on a still day, a sound, faint as a sigh, could be heard as their leaves caressed one another in a guarded murmur, as though the earth itself were recounting ancient sorrows.
• In a modest clearing among these spectral trees, Cole Grimwood and his hardened companions had gathered. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of embers and earth, and a fire_ now reduced to smoldering coals_ cast trembling shadows on their faces. They waited in tacit expectation for the arrival of their fifth member. At length, a solitary figure approached with deliberate calm. With a courteous wave, the newcomer joined the circle, immediately setting about caring for his horse. His appearance was a study in contrasts: on one side, the youthful face of a good-natured lad, and on the other, a jagged scar etched from his right eyebrow to the corner of his mouth, distorting his features into a permanent grimace. When he spoke, his tone bore the air of secrecy and half-hidden sorrows.
• Will Durov possessed of a natural gift for cooking_ had just gathered the dying coals and was now preparing bacon and coffee for this unexpected guest. The newcomer squatted near the fire, watching Durov with an intense, discerning gaze. Only when the meal was finished did Grimwood break the silence.