The path narrowed fast.
Whatever old trail had once been carved here had fallen into the same silence as the rest of the mountain. Cracks split through the stone underfoot. In some places, whole slabs had sheared away and dropped off into the frost below.
Lindarion stepped carefully. Each footfall checked before weight followed. The leather of his boots creaked faintly, but not enough to echo. Too much wind for that. It swept in sideways now. Thin. Needle-cold.
Meren slipped behind him with a soft yelp. Ardan caught the back of his collar without even looking and nudged him back onto the trail.
"Thanks," Meren muttered. "Didn't need all of my dignity anyway."
Ren was ahead of them both, squatting by a patch of exposed stone. She scraped her glove across the surface once, frowned, then stood again like the answers were too boring to share.
Lira kept to the right, nearest the drop. Her eyes didn't stop moving. From shadows to cracks. From cracks to sky. Then back again.
