( James Vellaroux's POV )
Concord came down the slope out of the trees in one piece and everybody on that riverbank got ready to fight.
Nobody gave an order. That's the thing about it. Brightvale was strung out along the water and Vanguard was still up on the rise and Sanctuary was somewhere in the middle and Greywall was two hundred paces north on their way to the ruin, and all four of them turned at once and closed up without one word going between them.
Two hours ago three of those classes were hitting each other.
Now they were a line.
I've seen grown soldiers take longer.
Thirty-seven people in navy walking down a slope toward a hundred and forty-five who all lost something this morning because of them. Petra Halvern at the front of it, not in front, a few paces inside, the way she's walked all day.
Tristan brought Vanguard down off the rise at a walk. Slow. Hand up. Keeping the pace down, because the speed you arrive at tells people what you came for.
