Chapter 43

Caleb sat cross-legged in the mouth of a shallow cave, the air of dawn pressing against his skin with a sharp, pre-morning chill. The silence was absolute, broken only by the rhythm of his own breathing. He closed his eyes, drawing the cool air deep into his lungs, attempting to steady a mind that had spent weeks submerged in the metallic tang of blood and the roar of combat. The constant cycle of hunt and kill had become a second nature, a layer of psychic grime that meditation could only begin...