Morning reached the shelters one lantern at a time. The road between them had been marked with blue strips and hand lamps, so families could move from one safe place to another without crowding the bridge. The missing carts were accounted for. Qinghe’s team had divided the wounded among clinics that could care for them, and the antidote had been given to the three scouts.
Oren kept Han’s map at the central shelter. He assigned each guide to a route and set a runner at every turn. The convoy moved in groups rather than returning to the bridge all at once. At the eastern mill, one cart waited until the road ahead was clear; at the next shelter, a guide raised a lantern when it was safe to continue.
Yan sat at the casualty table with Qinghe’s record and a stack of names. He wrote Han’s name at the top of the page, then left room beneath it for the people who had served with her to add their own accounts. The entry was plain: captain, Narrow Bridge, held the east span during evacuation.
Qinghe read it over his shoulder. “Check the unit before this is copied for the families.”
