A ker led the way, striding purposefully up the stairs, his posture upright despite the wind lashing his cloak against his legs. He was followed by a beastkin and a hulking borman. The beastkin was of a feline kind and covered in thick fur like the borman, but lean in stature. His posture was half-crouched, one paw occasionally brushing the ground for balance. The borman’s bulk loomed behind him, towering even when hunched. He frame was massive, shoulders rolling with each laborious step, his pack a bulging mountain on his back. His huge arms cradled what appeared to be one — no, two figures wrapped tightly in heavy cloth; blankets, coats, tent fabric. Yu could not make out much more than the vague shape of their heads, almost entirely swallowed by all the layers. Small. Humanoid. Either unconscious or —
Yu strained his hearing, trying to catch a heartbeat, or even just the faintest sound of breathing. Instead, he heard — the ice. Tensing. Bracing. Tightening. Coiling to strike. A sudden shift in the air hit him like a wave, crashing into him with unseen menace, flooding and drowning him in dread. He staggered back, arms pressed against his chest, hearts hammering frantic and arrhythmic. Nothing had happened, nothing had visibly changed, nothing at all, no attack, no movement, not sound, yet everything around him was suffocating with malice.
His flickering gaze caught onto Estingar to his left. The ulbatan was already looking at him, watching him. Their eyes met, and Estingar gave the briefest, almost imperceptible nod. Look to the right. Yu turned and froze. Imbiad stood rigid, one hand raised with splayed fingers pushing against something unseen. His other hand rested against his chest, fist closed, thumb extended and pressed to his sternum. A similar image flashed through Yu’s mind. He had seen, he had learned this at Ayenfora — a gesture of summoning. Magic.
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