PREVIEW

... ight sky, sending sparks dancing like tiny orange stars toward the moon.

Around us, the West Way was alive with a different kind of noise—not the clash that came with war, but the low, rhythmic hum of a tribe settling into safety.

The sheep looked ridiculous, honestly. A sea of pink, shorn bodies huddled around the heat, wrapped in whatever spare hides and blankets we could scrounge up from the kingdom.

They looked like they had just been through hell, but they were alive ...

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