Tempest of LiesChapter 10
No telltale bolt from the black announced the Wanderer's arrival this time. He had been transported to this spot early that morning, well to the east of his quarry where the rising sun would cover his arrival. He had holed up under a rocky outcropping, subsisting on a few meager rations and intense meditation. Now, under the cover of moonless night, he scurried through the underbrush as lithe as a cat and as silent as the breeze. Such stealth was second nature to him. It afforded him time...