The four grain wagons had departed into the northern mist hours ago, their creaking wheels fading down the mountain switchbacks under the watchful escort of Ronald’s perimeter guard. Night had fallen over the Razor Crags, but it was not the suffocating, hostile darkness of the lowlands. Up here, two thousand paces above the timberline, the sky was a velvet canopy of indigo and diamond dust, illuminated by the twin moons…
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