Chapter 1: The Ash and the Ridge
Maran
The tallow candle on the rough-hewn table flickered, throwing long, skeletal shadows against the mud-plastered walls of the outer cottage. Tapish was pacing, his boots thumping rhythmically against the dirt floor until the sound grated on my raw nerves.
"Stop," I whispered, not looking up from the whetstone. The blade of my hunting knife hissed softly against the grey grit, scraping away the dried mud of the lower trail.
"We shouldn't be here, Maran," Tapish hissed back, dropping onto a low wooden stool that creaked under his weight. "Viren’s men don't just check guest writs; they tear houses apart looking for deserters. If anyone recognizes the crest on your old tunic—even buried at the bottom of our pack—we’re dead before the moon hits the ridge."
"No one is going to recognize it," I said, keeping my voice level, though my own chest tightened at the thought. "My own clan barely knows who I am anymore. To Viren's hounds, we're just two starving idiots who got lost on the merchant road."
"And the girl?" Tapish leaned in, his eyes narrowing. "The healer’s daughter. Dhani. Did you see how wide-eyed she looked when we told her we lost our sheep? She practically believed every word without even blinking."
I paused the whetstone, running a thumb over the edge of the blade. It was razor-sharp now, cold and steady. "She's just a kid who grew up helping her parents mix herbs in a quiet valley. She doesn't know what a real lie looks like. We stay out of her way, we stay out of theirs. We just need ten days to let the search parties clear the valley pass. Then we move north."
Dhani
I stood outside the heavy wooden door of the outer cottage, balancing a small clay jar of soothing salve and a bundle of dried fever-bark in my palms. Mother had insisted on sending them over, talking gently about how terrible it must feel for poor boys to be separated from their families by a sudden border squabble.
My heart felt so heavy for them. When Kanna and Tapish had first arrived at our doorstep, dusted in road dirt and shivering with exhaustion, I had felt an immediate ache in my chest. Kanna looked so tired, carrying the weight of being the older one responsible for his friend. Even with those rough scars on his hands—which Mother said just came from hard farm labor and splitting heavy logs—he had such a gentle, weary look in his eyes when he thanked us.
If Viren’s patrol captains ever came down this far, people like Kanna and Tapish wouldn't stand a chance against their cruelty. Viren ruled the tribe with an iron fist, punishing even the smallest mistakes with harsh floggings and heavy taxes. The thought of anyone so helpless getting caught in Viren's web made my stomach turn.
I pushed the door open with my elbow, smiling softly so I wouldn't startle them. Kanna turned around quickly, his shoulders tensing for a second before he relaxed when he saw it was only me.
"I brought the fever-bark," I said brightly, stepping inside and setting the jar down on the table between us. "Mother says it helps clear the chest if the night air gets too cold out here."
Tapish, huddled by the corner under a woolen blanket, offered a small, grateful smile. But Kanna just stared down at the jar, his expression unreadable, though the guarded look in his eyes softened just a fraction.
"Thank you, Dhani," Kanna said quietly, his voice deep and smooth. "You... your family didn't have to do this for strangers."
"We always help travelers," I said, offering a reassuring nod. "You're safe here. Just stay inside when the evening drum beats, and you'll be fine."
