The stiff, high collar of the dark grey woolen tunic Cassandra's quartermaster had handed me felt sharp against my skin, but I pulled it up as high as it would go.
I reached up with my hand, rubbing the side of my neck where the throbbing sting of her bite still burned like a fresh brand.
I pushed past the heavy canvas flap of the command tent, stepping back out into the freezing, ash-dusted air of the creek bed.
The two guards stationed outside instantly straightened, their hand-guards clinking against their chest plates as they watched me walk out completely unharmed.
Word had clearly spread through the vanguard posts like wildfire, the stranger who had walked out of a dead zone was the Commander's missing brother. The frightened glares from earlier had vanished, replaced by a tense, hushed reverence as soldiers parted to give me a wide berth.
I paid them no attention, my boots crunching rhythmically against the frozen gravel as I walked down the main alley of the camp.
