On the morning of Day 148, the escape column reached the upper foothills switchback where the ancient survey road curved around the western shoulder of the Spine to enter the long, forested descent toward the caravan highway.
High above on the Windpit ridge, the small mirror-relay crew that Joric Thane had stationed to watch Empty Choir packed their signal brass into padded crates, struck their canvas windbreaks. Then they began their final descent. Their watch was complete. Captain Hest Vale’s column had passed the seven-mile gorge bridge without incident, Marshal Krail remained under honorable restraint in the baggage train. The neutral customs village had formally accepted the guard post’s arrival. The high divide was silent once more.
The Alderfast column halted on a broad limestone shelf to water the litter mules and check wheel lynchpins. Then, a cloud of dust rose from the lower switchbacks.
An outrider from Joric Thane’s freight depot came trotting up the road on a sturdy mountain pony, leading two fresh, saddled pack mules with clean leather bridles and wool saddle-pads. The rider, a young carter named Toric who had hauled pottery from Kilnstep before the war. He pulled his mount up beside the lead medical litter and tipped his broad-brimmed felt hat.
