By the time the sun had begun its slow descent toward the northern mountain ridge, casting golden rays across the carnage-packed camp, Darin was already mentally preparing himself for whatever weird meeting was coming next.
Because of course there would be a weird meeting next.
He barely had time to finish saying, "That's the last of the cargo—"
When the Stranger appeared.
With a dramatic swirl of his cloak and his usual grin that said I absolutely did something insane and you can't stop me, he materialized from the edge of the shadow cast by the cargo wagon. Right behind him was the Sect Master of the cult and the five elders—regal, grim, and very clearly here with intent.
Darin rubbed the bridge of his nose and muttered to Steve, who lay beside the cargo pile chewing on a discarded ant leg like it was jerky. "I just wanted a nap."
