Chapter 95

• The wooden bridge arched gently over a stream fed by the hills, the current dark and swift, gurgling as it rushed beneath the planks. Lanterns had been strung along the railing with obvious care, their warm orange light shimmering on the water's surface in rippling fragments of gold. And above the stream, fireflies floated in lazy spirals, their tiny glow pulsing in the darkness.
• Morvienne stopped at the edge of the bridge, her fingers resting on the worn wooden rail.
• She had never been here before.