He had been shut up in the cottage for three days. Leyd stepped outside when the eastern sky began to pale. As he pushed open the stone door, the morning wind sweeping across the plateau brushed against his face. Cold. It seeped into his body. Yet there was a refreshing clarity, as if he'd been released from three days of suffocation. His lower back ached. That hadn't changed. But his legs moved. That was enough. He began walking slowly toward the village square. The ground beneath his feet was damp. It must have rained lightly last night. The smell of grass. A scent unique to this village—a mixture of pasture grass and medicinal herbs. "There you are." The voice came suddenly. At the edge of the square, in front of the medicinal herb processing shed, Aira stood waiting. She had just returned from patrol; morning dew glistened on the shoulders of her leather armor. Her lustrous reddish-brown hair was tied back, and her transparent green eyes fixed on Leyd in a straight line. The