The morning air was crisp, with the faint scent of pine and damp earth, as the group broke camp. The plateau, bathed in the golden hues of dawn, felt like a brief refuge from the weight of their journey. No one lingered despite the beauty; they knew better than to dawdle on exposed ground.
David adjusted his pack, the weight of the shard heavier than usual. The pulse that had once seemed so distant was sharper now, a second heartbeat in his chest. It wasn't painful, but it was persistent, tugging at his thoughts as they descended the trail toward the valley.
The group moved in quiet rhythm, their boots crunching against the loose gravel. A lingering conversation from the night before floated around in David's head—Ivane's words, her insisting he didn't have to carry everything alone. He glanced at her as they walked, her expression calm and unreadable, but sensed her attention darting to him occasionally, as if silently to drive her point home.
