A noise rose up from the front of the group, a shout or a cheer. I couldn’t tell from my position in the middle of the riders. Tillia stiffened, lifting her arm to the sword strapped across her back. “What’s going on?” My knives were sheathed in their harness, the blades crisscrossed over my spine. Since that night with the grizzur, I hadn’t taken them off, even to rest.
