They cleared the last of the high ridges by mid-afternoon the next day.
The land dropped in long, rolling steps toward a wider valley where the scrub finally gave way to actual grass and the occasional low stone wall that looked like it had been built by someone who cared more about keeping sheep in than people out.
Smoke rose in a thin, steady column from a cluster of buildings still half a day ahead.
Selene shaded her eyes with one hand and squinted. "That's either a border post or a place that wishes it was one. Place like that always has at least one man who thinks a badge makes him important."
Aiden adjusted the reins. "Either way it has walls and, if the gods are feeling generous, beer that isn't made of pine needles. I've drunk enough of that stuff to start tasting the trees in my sleep."
"You complain like a man who's never been truly thirsty."
"I've been truly thirsty. That's how I know pine-needle beer is an insult to both the tree and the drinker."
