A wave of sudden heat swept across the back of his neck.
Dom had already half-risen from the driver's bench before the fireball could even register its impact on the rear of the carriage. Shing! His left hand instantly clamped around the hilt of his longsword. His eyes scanned the darkness of the pine forest on both sides—calculating distance, searching for enemy silhouettes, and predicting the trajectory of a follow-up attack.
Below, Naya vaulted down soundlessly, her twin daggers tracing lethal arcs as she dropped into a deadly, low crouch. Even Adul—who was usually the first to scramble for a hiding spot—now stood rigid, clutching a small pocketknife he had apparently concealed beneath his robes. His chest heaved as he held his breath.
Yet, no rain of arrows came. No battle cries echoed.
There was only the quiet of the forest, punctuated by the crackle of burning wood.
