Chapter 67 - Threads of Suspicion

The storm finally broke by dawn, as though the sky itself had grown weary of its own fury. Clouds split apart in ragged bands, letting in a thin spill of morning light. The valley stretched beneath them, muddy tracks glittering with dew, wildflowers pressed low beneath the weight of rain, the ruined road carving a pale scar toward the distant mountains. Steam rose in wavering curls from the soaked ground. The air was cool, sharp with the scent of wet earth and pine, but the freshness could not wash away the heaviness that clung to the group like a second cloak.