The caravan en route to the Northern Province took a scheduled break at a familiar resting point—a quiet clearing surrounded by old oaks. The sun was warm, casting its golden light over the lush greenery, and the group began to set up camp for a short rest. Horses were tied, guards patrolled the perimeter, and people settled into the clearing, ready to take a breather.
Mikhailis leaned against a sturdy oak tree, arms folded across his chest, as he watched the camp slowly come to life. His eyes flicked over to where Elowen was standing, giving orders to the guards. Her presence was commanding as always, and yet, there was a heaviness to her posture that only someone close to her would notice. He sighed softly, trying to shake the feeling of unease that had followed him since they began this journey.
"Rodion," he murmured quietly, so that no one else would hear.
"You think she's alright?"
