On the third day, the dark stopped being empty.
We began to see them at the edges rogue scouts, watching from the ridgelines, not attacking, just marking our passage. Damien's wolves, or clans loyal to him, tracking the small column moving north toward the quarry. Roan noticed them before any of us.
"He knows something's in his country," Roan said, low, as we picked our way up a broken watercourse. "Not what, yet. A small party this deep isn't an army, so he won't panic. But he'll be curious. And a curious Damien sends wolves to find out." His pale eyes swept the ridges. "You have maybe a day before one of those scouts gets close enough to see the true king riding through the rogue dark with twelve wolves and a bound traitor. And when Damien learns it's you that you've walked into his co
