Chapter 33

The last torchlight faded into darkness above them, leaving only the sound of rushing water and their ragged breathing. Mountain air cut through their soaked clothes like knives, making Brytha's teeth chatter audibly.

"Follow the bank," she whispered, her boots sliding on wet stones. "There's a cave... smugglers use it..." Her wet leather armor creaked with each careful step.

The cave entrance appeared as a darker shadow in the rock face, barely wide enough for their shoulders. Inside, the space opened just enough for them to stand. Water pooled at their feet, their clothes dripping steadily onto stone.

Brytha turned to face the rough wall, her fingers fumbling with frozen buckles. "Not a word," she warned as leather scraped against leather. "And don't turn around."