DYERIt starts with laughter.

That alone tells me how fragile the moment is.

The den is louder than it has been in days, voices overlapping, boots scraping stone, the clatter of bowls as wolves gather near the hearth. News has finally settled into bone and breath. Redmoon still stands. The North was driven back. The mountain did not fall.

Good news should travel fast.

This one limped.

For most of yesterday, the only word that reached us was ruin. Speculation. Exaggeration dressed as certainty. ...