Nightfall painted the sky in hues of purple and orange as the caravan rolled to a halt. The once jovial atmosphere had been replaced by a tense silence, broken only by the occasional snort of the horses and the rustling of leaves in the growing darkness. Trevor, his face etched with concern, called out orders to his men, his voice sharp and alert.
"We make camp here for the night. Double the perimeter guards, and keep your eyes peeled. Anything larger than a rabbit, you wake me. Understood?"
A chorus of gruff affirmations echoed through the clearing as the guards sprang into action. They worked with practiced efficiency, securing the horses, establishing a perimeter, and setting up a makeshift campsite. Cecile, her usual cheerfulness dampened by the somber mood, huddled near the largest carriage, her gaze darting nervously into the shadows that danced around the edge of the firelight.
