They rode west for two weeks, avoiding patrols, sleeping in ditches and under thorn hedges when the rain came down in sheets. Garrick taught Jax everything he knew, lessons delivered in low voices at night or sharp commands during the day’s march. How to read a map by starlight and the angle of moss on tree trunks. How to set snares that caught rabbits without snapping twigs. How to speak with authority even when terror clawed at your throat. “People follow certainty,”
