Dawn had barely broken, sickly and crimson, when Rakahn and Katia left the clearing, leaving behind the earthen cottage and the last embers of their stolen night. Their clothes were still damp in places, their steps heavy yet silent. They didn't speak — there was no need. Everything in their movements betrayed a rare harmony, forged in tenderness and ashes.
The forest gradually gave way to a more arid landscape, scorched by past battles. The trees were nothing more than blackened skeletons, twisted by wind and fire. A thick layer of ash covered the ground, cracking underfoot like glass. Dust, ever-present, clung to their clothes and skin. The air tasted of metal and memories.
Katia pulled her cloak tighter around her, eyes half-closed.
"Think they'll throw us a welcome party?"
Rakahn gave a slight smile without slowing down.
"Unless someone was very... childish, I don't see why we'd be expected."
