She would never reach them. Not while this river ran red with her followers' blood.
I waded back into the shallows to wash the worst of the gore from my arms. The water stung every cut. Behind me the pack worked in grim silence, dragging bodies clear of the crossing and piling what wood we could find for pyres. Smoke would rise soon, a signal the north could not ignore.
Darius joined me at the edge, sleeves rolled high. His hands moved methodically, cleaning his blade first, then his skin. "They lost their fastest scouts in that rush. Next wave will be slower, angrier."
"Good," I said. "Anger makes mistakes."
Kane crouched nearby, binding a gash on his forearm with a strip torn from a dead man's cloak. The fabric darkened quickly. Rylan paced the bank, axe across his shoulders, eyes scanning the far treeline like he could will the enemy to appear sooner.
We had bought ourselves a short window. Hours, maybe a full day before the main column arrived. I used every minute.
