The ridgeline was quieter than it had been in hours.
I stood at the edge of the shield wall, Kaelen's arm still around my shoulders, the villagers who had followed us from Oakhaven being led through the gates toward shelter. The wounded had been taken to the healers, the children to warm rooms, and the old ones to beds where they could rest. The square of Frosthold was crowded with survivors, with warriors, and with the detritus of a battle that had lasted through the night and into the grey dawn.
But the ridgeline was quiet.
I had expected the battle to still be raging, had expected to return to find the warriors still fighting, the line still holding, and the monsters still pressing against the shields. Instead, there was silence. The kind of silence that came after a storm, when the wind had died and the rain had stopped and the world was waiting for something to begin again.
