The pale light of dawn crept through the trees, casting the clearing in muted grays and soft golds. The fire was no more than smoldering embers now, and the air was thick with the lingering scent of smoke and damp earth.
Taryn crouched near the remains of the fire, methodically packing away the last of their supplies. Her movements were efficient, but her face bore the marks of exhaustion.
Lucien stood at the edge of the clearing, stretching his arms over his head as he worked out the stiffness from the night before. He winced faintly, his hand brushing his ribs. "Remind me why we didn't just stay in the village last night?"
"Because we weren't there yet," Taryn muttered, not looking up.
"Ah, yes," Lucien replied, his voice light. "And nothing says good decision-making like battling a creature the size of a bed instead of sleeping on one."
