Travelling with Mia for the past five days was hard, far harder than I ever expected.
First, there was the challenge of following the old cat beastkin herself. Despite her age and old appearance, she moved through the forest with an agility that made me wonder if her bones even existed. Her body twisted and flowed like water between roots and branches, never once slowing down, while I stumbled after her in a clumsy blur of exertion.
Then there was the forest itself. Every step felt like a battle. Twisted roots rose from the earth like traps, and thickets of branches clawed at my clothes as I tried to keep up.
Fallen leaves hid dips and stones that threatened to send me tumbling face‑first into the dirt. Even breathing felt like work, the air heavy with the smell of damp earth and wild plants.
And then came the nights.
Cold.
Bitterly, endlessly cold.
