The crimson glare of the desert sun sank behind the jagged sandstone bluffs, bathing the desolate canyon in deep violet shadows.
A dry, whistling breeze swept through the narrow gorge, cooling the baked bedrock and carrying the comforting aroma of simmering barley broth.
At the center of the camp, three camp kettles bubbled quietly over low campfires surrounded by smooth river stones.
Sentries were posted at fifty-pace intervals along the wagon perimeter, their crossbows rested across their knees as they maintained their vigilant night watch.
Hajin stood near the central cookfire, watching the camp cook stir the thick porridge of barley, dried wild leeks, and cured bacon fat.
The young summoner took two battered tin bowls from the supply crate, ladle in hand as he filled each bowl to its brim with the steaming, hearty stew.
