Damon
The snow came down in heavy, uneven sheets, swirling in circles around the valley. A cold snap heralded spring wasn’t ready to arrive.
Even for the north, this was no ordinary storm. Something that felt very wrong.
I moved through the village, helping where I could. Windows were sealed with cloth in the cracks, livestock brought inside. The people here were hardy, used to winter’s teeth.
But none of them could smell what I did. Rot and blood and steel. The scent cut through the storm. It wasn’t near, but it wasn’t far, either.
Zane stirred, pacing restlessly. You smell it.
Rogues, I answered silently.
No, he growled, his voice deeper than usual. They’re marked.
I stopped in the center of the square, letting the wind tear across my face. Beneath the clean scent of snow, the
