The wind carried the smell of burning pine and scorched hair long before Juna saw the hamlet.
She ran ahead of the others, feet skidding on the frozen road, every nerve screaming toward the glow. Behind her Hajin's footsteps pounded closer, steady and stubborn, exactly the sound she hoped to hear all day.
'He only heard half of it, maybe less. If he dies before I say the rest, I'll never forgive him.'
"You've been quiet since the corridor, Mutt," Hajin panted, drawing level with her, "if this is still about the pool—"
"It isn't about the pool," she snapped, never looking back, "I always go quiet when I run."
"Left flank, then?" he asked, the Chain already spinning loose from his wrist.
"Always, idiot," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat.
They crested the rise together, the whole valley burning beneath them like a bowl of red coals. Black smoke rolled over the square, where a lone figure stood with a blade across his shoulder.
