The fire was already spreading south behind Süke. It had found the dry reed beds where the first arrows had landed and was moving steadily through them. Smoke rose in flat gray layers, hung low across the water, then drifted north as the morning air shifted.
Süke could smell the reeds burning. Beneath that scent was dark mud churned by hooves along the bank and the wet decay of vegetation left undisturbed since autumn.
There wasn't much worth studying here.
Reeds, mud, smoke, water.
The real question was ahead of them, and the work wasn't finished.
He nocked another fire arrow. The head was wrapped thick with cord and pitch, making it noticeably heavier than a normal shaft. That extra weight changed the draw and shortened the range.
He aimed at another untouched stretch of bank, released, and watched the arrow strike low among the reeds roughly a dozen meters ahead.
A few seconds later it caught.
