Adam's eyes narrowed as a structure came into view through the trees—a crude wooden watchtower, barely visible against the gray stone of the gorge walls. A faint wisp of smoke rose from somewhere beyond it.
"That's strange," Adam muttered, slowing the cart. "There's a watchtower up ahead. Like a guard post."
Seraphina squinted, following his gaze. "I can barely make it out. Your eyesight is remarkably sharp." She paused, processing the implication. "If that truly is a guard post, then something is wrong. That likely marks the territory of the bandits."
Adam's brow furrowed. "Bandits have their own territory? With watchtowers? They're more organized than I thought."
"We should take a detour," Seraphina said immediately, her voice taking on a tactical edge. "Avoid confrontation. We don't know their numbers, and engaging them serves no purpose."
