– The a’Tor Ranges -three weeks since the flight of the Free Provinces Trystan Süll peered down into the mountain path, his breath misting through the burgundy cloth wrapped around the lower half of his pale face. Everything was laid out before him from his perch in the cliffs some fifty feet above. Grey eyes took in the snowy trail, the only part of him that moved as he studied his opportunities. With practiced efficiency he registered every detail, memorizing every shadow, every dip and bump of stone beneath the winter white. Once satisfied, Trystan crouched low, reaching back to free the heavy pine bow slung over his shoulder. The paired sabers sheathed at his right hip rattled when he strung the weapon with rapid ease, drawing a thin black arrow from the leather quiver by his knee. Nocking it, he stilled. The wait was on. Somber clouds rolled thick over the heavens, suspending the mountains in semi-darkness despite the fact that it was only just past midday.
