Chapter Thirty-Seven

At first glance, the camp looked no different, and I hoped that Rue was wrong about deserters, however as I went about my day, it became evident that there were gaps. Wagons were missing, fewer horses grazed, and tents were empty.

People were tense, sliding sideways glances at my siblings as they moved through the camp. Although they maintained an appearance of dragon-stoicism, Tarragon, Rue, and the twins talked more frequently during the day in dragon, discussing what to do. In comparison to their frequent conversations, the rest of the camp seemed muted, their conversations carried out in hushed murmurs, interrupted, and falling into guilty silence whenever someone passed by.

That night, I was woken by movement and murmurings outside of the tent. In the dark, I met Tarragon’s eyes. She put a finger to her lips and we both listened to the sounds of horses being led past, the clank of armor, and the creak of wagons.

When the noises passed, Tarra rolled over and appeared to return to