Chapter 27 Glitvall followed High Shaman Greythorn into the tent, the heavy flap falling closed behind him with a weight that felt more significant than just hide and leather. Inside, the air was thick with smoke from burning herbs he couldn't name, their scent sharp and earthy all at once. The tent's interior was larger than it appeared from outside, or perhaps that was just the way the shadows played against the walls. Pelts covered the ground in layers, some white as fresh snow, others dark as a moonless night. Bones hung from the support poles on leather cords, arranged in patterns that Glitvall had learned long ago not to question. Some were from animals, others from enemies, all of them serving purposes that only the shamans understood. In the center of the tent sat a fire pit, its flames burning blue and green instead of the normal orange and red. The light it cast made everything look otherworldly, like they'd stepped into (...)