Water hammered the channel before either man spoke or slowed. The river ran tight between stone walls, shouldering its way through polished rock and dragging loose gravel along the edges. Spray drifted low and cold, clinging to hair and cloth.
Moonlight shattered on the surface and reformed in broken lines that slipped and vanished as the current shifted. Footing changed with each step. Stone dipped, tilted, rolled under pressure. Balance came only after testing.
Vencian moved first through the river corridor, angled slightly upstream to keep the current from cutting his legs out. His breath pulled too hard through his chest, rough and audible over the water. Each step paused halfway, boot hovering while he searched for purchase by feel.
His calves locked when he straightened, heat trapped under skin that had already worked too long earlier in the night. He let weight settle only after the stone held. The river punished haste. He respected that.
