A dune beside the road stands up in the falling ash and waits. Send one champion across the stakes; running wakes the dead beneath it.
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Mossy roofs gather around a young oak and a memorial stone, 20 miles southwest of Brightcrown. 1,500 forestry folk send timber, tar and carvings to the capital, and their elder carries the forest's word to the crown.
Salt wind reaches your caravan a mile out, and every camel leans toward the sea. Thirsthound waits on the dunes for one to run.
Lantern light spills across three shrouded dead as the marsh answers in their voices. Finish the Names before the light claims someone.
