The morning chill of the plains flitted away as the sun rose into the clear clue sky. In the distance, jagged, snow capped peaks turned the horizon into a badly drawn line instead of the usual flat line disappearing into infinity.
The soft coach springs of the caravan absorbed most of the uneven ground, turning it into a softened jolting as the big wheels were dragged over clumps of grass, hardened manure and trampled ant-hills.
The darkness tickled Minerva's senses. She could feel it out there, behind her. Just as she could feel the Shadow lord watching as well.