Mournford Crossing

Mournford Crossing is watched because open country can become a trap faster than pride admits. The ford runs cold between worn banks where three halls once lost their heirs to delay, swollen water, and arguments over who should ride first. In clear weather it can look almost peaceful: reeds bending, horses drinking, light on the current. Keldrun knows better. The mud there has held broken spear shafts, drowned tack, blood on mail, and the prints of riders who arrived after the shouting was done. Young patrols swear there so they learn that a ford may be a grave wearing water.