Emberwood [m] Disaster falling on me after the sun comes up

Every well-traveled wayfarer knows the signs of a storm rising: the way the air thickens, the sky darkens, the world draws in on itself as if to shield its face from the onslaught. But it wasn't snowfall on the wind this time. Marina lifted her nose to test the air, to assess what she could of this newcomer.

Another man. Her ears flicked back, but she rose to peer out of her den nonetheless, her mouth glinting silver and red in the scant light. He was hidden well among the shadows, or already on his way elsewhere. On light, cautious feet she took a single step from the den, ears swiveling to catch any sound that might give her an answer.