Asher crouched high in one of the tall trees overlooking the eastern ravine and cursed into his half-mask.
The mask softened the sound, but not the feeling behind it. The stench rising from below was foul enough to make even breathing through the academy field gear feel like accepting a challenge. Blood, dead animals, wet rot, and something sharper threaded through all of it, acidic enough to sting the back of the throat whenever the wind shifted wrong. Without the mask covering the lower half of his face and nose, Liam doubted the air would be tolerable for long.
"Disgusting," Asher muttered, one hand gripping the branch beneath him. "This entire place smells like something died, melted, and then offended the water."
Liam said nothing.
He crouched a few branches away, looking down into the ravine.
