Chapter 60

• Morning in the gorge was bitterly cold. Instead of the familiar song of birds, the silence was broken only by the sharp whistle of wind threading between the rocks and the crackle of dying logs in the campfire.
• The camp woke slowly but efficiently, like a well-oiled machine. Soldiers dismantled tents without unnecessary words, rolled up bedrolls, and checked their harnesses.
• When Corvo approached Myriella’s tent, she was already on her feet. Malok stood beside her, helping her fasten the straps of her riding dress with his good hand while his injured arm rested in a sling.