The cold hit harder now.
Not the polite kind from earlier. This was the kind that crept down your shirt collar and whispered mean things to your spine.
Lindarion pulled his scarf higher.
Ashwing bounced once behind him, tail smacking against the wood of the doorway like a drumroll nobody asked for.
Ahead, the village square was lit with only three lanterns. Two were flickering like they were considering retirement. One was already dead.
Great.
Ren yawned beside him. Not because she wasn't alert. Just because she had the emotional range of a bored cat and the sleep schedule of a raccoon.
'Sleep? In this economy?'
Meren was trying to lace his boots while walking, which was a bold strategy. He tripped twice. Pretended both were stretching.
Ardan checked his sword. Checked it again. Then did nothing, which was somehow still threatening.
Raleth led them toward the northern fields, jaw tight, pace brisk, and voice pitched just loud enough to carry.
