They walked onward, mother and daughter, beneath the shower of flowers.
With every step, the procession grew. Women clad in prepared hunting attire emerged from side streets and courtyards, falling into place behind the queen and princess. Their armor was light but ceremonial, adorned with sigils and tokens of past hunts. Together, they formed a living tide, moving as one toward the gate that led beyond the city, toward the forest, toward tradition, toward whatever awaited them there.
To the onlookers, it was a sight of unity and splendor.
Only Amina felt how thin the line was between celebration and catastrophe.
