Dawn broke over the treetops, weak light spilling onto frost-covered ground. The dying hearth left only a faint patch of embers, and the clearing felt exposed, as though the forest was watching.
First to step into the clearing, Taryn had her blade in hand. Every footstep crunched softly against the frost, yet somehow the sound spoke loud and seemed to emphasize the unnatural stillness around them. The air was crisp, the wind biting on her cheeks as her gaze combed trees and ground. She couldn't quite put a name to the unease crawling over her skin, but it was there, sharp and insistent.
Behind her, Kah'el moved with calculated precision, as always; his hand rested on the hilt of his blade, his eyes scouring the tree line. He hadn't said much since the night before, but his presence was steady, grounding, even as the silence stretched taut between them.
