Beneath it, something clung.
Not wet. Sticky in a mineral way. Almost fibrous.
He looked ahead.
The marker stones continued in a straight line across a shallow dip. Nothing visibly moved. The ash lay smooth between the slabs.
Too smooth.
"I do not like the dip," he said. "The ash beneath the surface feels bound together, almost like old webbing. It is not skarn sign, but it is not normal drift either."
Veska came forward slowly, leaning on her staff. She crouched beside him, scooped a tiny amount of ash into a small metal spoon, and held it under her nose.
Then she spat into the ash beside the path.
"Burrow silk."
Everyone shifted at once.
The shield hands lowered their stances. The archers raised bows. The harvesters backed away with obvious fear.
Rohan remained crouched. "I am guessing that is bad."
Veska looked at him as if he had disappointed her. "Things that hide under roads are rarely good, ash-child."
Maerin signalled for the formation to retreat three markers.
