Freda Pov
The three judges were entirely gone, and the thirty steel spears of Caleb's wall were nothing but a thin gray line moving along the high pine ridge.
"The lane is clear, Urdon."
Urdon let his weight drop an inch, his left boot sliding out of the cabbage ditch until his heel caught a solid piece of split rail. His skin felt completely cold through his flannel shirt, and his breathing came out in short, heavy clicks against my neck, but his chest kept moving up and down without stopping.
"We still have the oak door frames."
"The door frames are split down the bolt line, old man." Rex walked past our boots with three broken shield stakes in his left hand, his pale face covered in black grease from the canvas fires.
"A split log can take an iron wedge, Rex."
"We don't have an iron wedge left in the smith box."
