The forest had no birds in it. That was the first thing anyone noticed when they crossed into the western zone. No birds, no insects, no wind in the leaves. Just black bark and gray moss and a silence that pressed on the ears like deep water.
Three disciples of the orthodox alliance walked the dead path with their swords drawn, and their torch was the only warm thing for a mile.
"I still say we should have waited at the river fort," muttered Senior Brother Zhao, a broad man of twenty eight with a notched blade and a jaw that had been broken once and set badly. "Patrols don't come out this far. Nobody comes out this far."
"Because someone has to confirm what happened to the last patrol." Wei Ping kept her voice level. She was the younger of the two women, sharp eyed, her sect robes muddied to the knee. "Twelve cultivators entered this forest eight days ago. None came out. If we run from a report, we shame our sects."
