The night of the new moon hung over the northern passes like a heavy cloak of black velvet. There was no celestial light from the heavens—both moons were hidden behind the jagged peaks of Mount Solitude—yet the allied host moved with the silent, spectral precision of ghosts gliding across the snow. Not a single iron buckle jingled; not a single horse whinnied. Every hoof was wrapped in thick boiled wool,…
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