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... like drunk sentries, roots torn by frost and time. Stone outcroppings jutted up between frost-bitten shrubs, and the trail narrowed to a strip no wider than a cart axle.

Lindarion dropped low behind a half-collapsed boulder and raised one fist. The group behind him halted instantly, Lira to the right, Sylric just behind, Luneth already ghosting between shadows without a word.

He scanned the ridge above.

No signal flares. No movement. ƒrēewebnovel.com

Nothing.

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