Venetia was a province of dense evergreen forests and endless flowing springs. In the autumn, the air always carried the thick scent of wet earth and wild mint, a fragrance that clung to the traveler whether they walked the hidden forest paths or the stone of the high road.
It took the caravan one full day of steady travel from the border to reach the outskirts of Venezza. As the sun dipped toward the late afternoon, the town began to sprawl out below the slope of the hills.
Hermi could see the distant slate roofs and the thin plumes of chimney smoke rising against the orange sky. However, instead of heading toward the main gates, Cassian steered his stallion into a sharp turn, leading them back into the shadows of a thick wood.
The path narrowed the deeper they traveled. The trees pressed in close, forcing the men behind them to shout and strain as they struggled to maneuver the heavy wagons through the brush.
