Captain Han Yue walked the bridge approach with the local defenders. The convoy continued west across the river in small groups. She checked the rear cart herself, making sure the wounded and slower families had not been separated.
“Wait until the litter reaches the far marker,” she told the driver. “Then move the next cart.”
The driver eased the reins. One of the rear wheels caught on a seam between the planks. A local defender went down on one knee to check it, then waved the cart forward once the wheel cleared.
Han stayed by the crossing as families passed. A mother carried a metal box under one arm and held a child by the hand. The child had wrapped his other arm around a bundle of blankets.
“We’re with our aunt on the far side,” the mother said when Han asked their destination.
“The east mill has room if the bridge closes.”
“We know the place.”
Han gave her a blue cloth strip and pointed to the turn beyond the stone wall. The mother tied it to the cart so the driver could recognize the fallback signal.
