When the northern wind swept across the golden-topped royal tents by the banks of the Onon River, it had lost the gentleness of the south, leaving behind only a blade-like sharpness and a bone-deep bitterness mixed with the stench of blood and rotting grass.
The massive flag bearing the Golden Wolf totem hung low, as if bearing some heavy humiliation, swaying limply in the bitter wind.
Inside the royal tent, the air was as thick as congealed blood.
Chapter 309