By the time they brought the bowman back under Grimridge's wall, dawn had broken cleanly over the snow.
The light did not soften anything. It only showed the damage more clearly. The arrow still stuck through the cart plank. Mara's wrap hung torn at one shoulder where the blade man had caught her. Cassian's knuckles were open again. Frost had dried into the hem of Sable's skirt where the cut's snow had soaked through and frozen there in thin, stubborn layers. The captive's shoulder bled steadily from the archer's shot, though not enough to put him out of use.
