Eight days out from Ghanil, four since driving Zrithrak from Rask, the group settled in around the fire. Alexis sat half-lit at the edge, the brim of his hat dropping shadow across his eyes. A copper coin rolled steady over his knuckles, flashing, disappearing, flashing again. The red jasper at his chest shifted when he breathed, catching firelight for a blink before sliding back into dark.
He speaks without raising his voice. Mostly to Ethelred, but clearly others need to hear this as well.
“I’ve been thinking—we need to start setting caches. Supply stashes, marked so we can track them later. Something queer in each one, something that doesn’t belong—a child’s top, maybe. Close enough, we’ll find it again.”
The coin paused, balanced between thumb and finger.
“Gus will know where we left them. But if he’s not there, we’re not left blind.”
He leaned forward, letting the fire catch half his face, the rest still in shadow.
“After Ghanil, who knows? Greyfax land. Grasslands again. North of Sutheron. Every road takes something from us. Better to have reserves waiting.”
He turned the coin once more, then let it vanish into his palm.
“What do you think, friend?”
The fire cracked. The shadows shifted with it.