The ride back to the main camp was silent. The only sounds were the steady clopping of horse hooves and the occasional creak of leather as injured and exhausted men clung to the reins of their mounts. The battle had drained them physically and mentally, leaving only the grim determination to reach camp.
Morana followed alongside Ragnar's forces, flying ahead of the group but never straying far from Ragnar and his horse. Her wings remained fully visible for all of them to see. She had not drawn her glamour back over them to conceal their existence as she had done almost constantly since leaving Innermost.
By now, most of the soldiers no longer paid much attention to her presence. They had watched her tear through the enemy lines, destroy the archers on the ridge, and kill Remin herself. After witnessing that, a pair of wings and a display of magic were far less concerning than they might have been a few hours earlier.
