over his dark hair, and stalked through the
chaotic mass of soldiers.
A retreat. This soon, this fast. For all his
training, the brutal years of learning and
fighting and leading, this was what it had
come to.
Would they even make it to Perranth?
The order with which the army had marched
southward utterly collapsed on the flight back
north. The Fae troops stayed at their rear,
magic shields buckling, yet holding. Keeping
Morath’s forces at bay by the foothills while
they retreated toward Perranth.
The grumbling amongst the limping,
exhausted soldiers trickled past Lysandra as
she trudged between them, wearing the form
of a horse. She’d allowed a young man onto
her back when she’d spied his guts nearly
hanging out of his rent armor.