The dry channel ran east from the mill, its stones worn smooth by water and cart wheels. Yan went ahead with Rell and Miu. The route bypassed the lower road and shortened the distance to Narrow Bridge, but the brush along its banks gave a small force room to hide.
Three-Step Ash Run carried Yan over the loose sections. Each burst strengthened his footwork and let him cross a patch of sharp stone without slipping. He felt eager to reach the bridge. The mill’s white flag had given him a safe place to find the families, but Han still held the rear on the east bank.
“Keep left at the next bend,” Rell called. “The right channel narrows beside a blind wall.”
Yan slowed long enough to check the mark. Rell was right: the right path ended at a stone face, where someone had built a short barrier to redirect water. The left side remained open toward the bridge.
The sound of footsteps came from the brush.
Yan stopped. Miu raised a hand to hold the scouts back. A spear flew from the bank and struck Yan’s side armor. The point glanced off the plate, but the force bruised his ribs. He turned and knocked down the attacker before a second spear could be thrown.
