The horn cuts off abruptly, the sound swallowed by the trees as if the forest itself has decided it has heard enough, and in the sudden quiet that follows I become acutely aware of my own breathing, fast and uneven, my pulse still hammering from the fall and the fight and the certainty that we were meant to break here. Adam’s hands remain steady on my shoulders for one more heartbeat, grounding and real, before he releases me and turns fully toward the ravine edge.
“Form on me,” he repeats, louder now, his voice snapping clean and sharp through the lingering chaos.
The response is immediate.
Boots scrape rock and soil as our warriors regroup with practiced efficiency, bodies appearing along the ravine rim and then sliding down carefully into the wider section where footing is safer. No
