The morning after our narrow escape from the Whispering Woods dawned quietly. The barren landscape around us was silent, almost unnervingly so, as if the world itself was holding its breath. I sat up slowly, the aches and bruises from our recent battles reminding me of how close we had come to disaster. The others were stirring as well, their movements slow and deliberate, each of us weighed down by the toll this journey was taking.
I glanced around at my companions, noting the weariness etched on their faces. Finn was tending to his gear, his usually quick hands moving with a lethargy that mirrored his exhaustion. Auri sat nearby, staring out at the desolate horizon, lost in thought. Even Ryn, who often masked his emotions behind a stern facade, seemed quieter than usual, his eyes betraying the same fatigue I felt in my bones.
