Chapter 28 Francis and Glitvall walked back through the shaman section in silence. The warchief's usual confidence seemed diminished somehow, his shoulders carrying a weight that hadn't been there before. Francis could sense the change in the man's mood, and he could feel it in the way Glitvall's steps had become heavier, more deliberate. They passed through the bone chimes and skull totems without comment, leaving behind the shamans who watched them with knowing eyes. The familiar sounds of the warrior camp grew louder as they walked, but neither man spoke until they reached Glitvall's tent. Upon entering the small space, Glitvall made Francis sit on one of the fur-covered benches. The warchief moved to a small chest in the corner, kneeling before it and opening it slowly, reverently. He dug through its contents until he found what he was looking for, a leather flask that looked old and well-worn.