Xavier studied the faces around him one more time, feeling the weight of their trust settle on his shoulders like fresh snow. The wind carried that strange mix of smoke and something else—something that made his skin prickle despite the heavy coat.
"We go through," he said finally. "But we do it smart. Single file behind the wagons, weapons ready, and if anyone sees something that doesn't feel right, we stop."
Dalen nodded slowly. "Right then. Mount up, everyone. Stay close to the wagons."
As the group prepared to move, Ashley stepped closer to Xavier, her crossbow already loaded. "You feel it too, don't you?"
"Feel what?"
"That wrongness in the air. Like the cold isn't just weather anymore."
Xavier glanced toward the distant smoke columns, now barely visible through the increasing snowfall. His headache had shifted, the constant pull toward Hearthome now mixed with something else—a pressure behind his eyes that made him want to look anywhere except ahead.
"Yeah. I feel it."
