Yara read the target twice.
The first time, she looked for the military reason. The second, she made herself stop looking for one that the words did not contain.
The warm hollow north of the feeder was occupied by a mature native body and young. The latest scout report was dated three days earlier. Its movement marks were current enough to guide an attack and too current to be mistaken for the old winter-road map.
Smoke charges at the approaches. Fire across the retreat route if the body attempted to move before the opposing station withdrew its support.
The stated object was leverage.
The people and bodies in the hollow were not operating the League battery. They were not holding East Spindle’s workers. Their vulnerability was what made the order useful.
Yara folded the page along its existing crease.
Outside her room, a guard called the morning change. The thousand and forty-seventh day had begun. Iven’s counterattack party was preparing its forward stages. The council wanted the eastern force displaced quickly, and had found a price to demand from someone outside the fighting.
