The sun hung low on the horizon as Alaric and Rosalind's horse trotted through the wide dirt road leading toward the main branch of the Silver Ravens Guild.
After three days of travel, filled with teasing touches, soft kisses, and moments where Alaric simply relished in Rosalind's soft warmth, they finally caught sight of their destination.
The guild's branch loomed ahead—a towering structure of gray stone and intricate carvings, its massive crest emblazoned on the gates.
Rosalind, seated in front of Alaric on their shared horse, leaned back against him with a content sigh. "Finally here," she murmured, her voice soft yet laced with a quiet determination.
Alaric smiled faintly, his arms still comfortably looped around her waist. "About time. I was beginning to think this horse would fall apart before we got here."
