The dawn did not break; it bled.
Before the sun crested the jagged teeth of the eastern ridges, the sky bruised a deep, violently purplish-red, the color of old blood drying on iron. Séb lay perfectly still beneath the heavy, foul-smelling wool blanket, his eyes wide open, watching the light slowly penetrate the gloom of the narrow ravine they had chosen for the night’s shelter.
He was warm. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he was not shivering, not marching, not swin