West of West Mouth, the road rose into the Long Teeth.
The party left on day1715 with the current water marks and the next shelters’ accepted turns. Sixteen elapsed days would carry them another two hundred and twenty-four kilometers to Bellwether Shelf if the ordinary holds remained within the route plan.
The first high crossing gave them a clear morning.
Stone teeth stood above the path, their upper faces pale against a hard blue sky. Wind moved through the gaps with a sound that changed when a person turned their head. Below, patches of low haze hid the hollows where bad air could still gather.
Nothing about Rootwell’s success had made those hollows safe.
Vela kept the animals on the high line.
At the old broken notch, Neri stopped.
A bridge stood there.
