Night settled like a lazy thief.
Quiet. Cold. Intent on stealing rest.
Lindarion sat by the fire, elbows on his knees, chin resting in one hand. Ashwing was curled up at his feet again, tail flicking softly every few minutes like he was dreaming about eating something bigger than him. Maybe Meren.
The rest of the group was scattered around the main room of the inn in various states of pre-exhaustion.
Ren leaned back against the wall, boots kicked up on a bench, balancing a knife on one finger and pretending not to be good at it. Her expression said she was absolutely waiting for someone to ask.
Meren had his arms folded and his hood pulled up, quietly losing a mental argument with gravity. Every ten minutes his head jerked up like he'd won. Then it slumped again.
Ardan stood near the back window, because of course he did. Just watching. Not brooding. He didn't do that. He just stared with so much intent that the shadows probably reported to him.
