The sun crawled toward the horizon while Gabriel positioned himself among the rocks.
The outcropping he'd chosen jutted from the ravine wall twenty meters up, hidden by an overhang that kept it in perpetual shadow. From this position, he could see the entire corridor carved between the peaks.
Perfect for an ambush.
If the wyvern used this route.
If his timing was right.
If he could actually land on a flying creature.
Gabriel pushed the doubts aside and focused on what needed to be done.
Both swords came free from their sheaths. He examined each edge, testing them against his thumb. Sharp. The Ironscale ore Tormund had forged them from held an edge that lasted.
He resheathed one sword and kept the other in hand, blade angled down so no reflection would give away his position.
Then he settled in to wait.
