After a long night, the sun slowly rose above the horizon, and golden shafts of light emerged through the thick canopy overhead. In the morning light, dew glistened on the grass like strewn-about gems. Except for the distant chirping of birds and the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a light breeze, the forest was silent.
The first to stir was Nova, whose eyes fluttered open at the soft warmth of his face. The stress from the day before was still weighing on his shoulders as he slowly sat up. The magical circle he had drawn the previous evening was still dimly glowing beneath them, slowly fading away as the world around them started to stir, and his cloak was damp from the morning mist.
Dravon was already awake, crouched next to the beast, feeding it and checking the reins. Sarn had rolled onto his side and was muttering something incoherent in his sleep before grunting awake with a curse.
