The road unspooled before them like a ribbon of dirt and roots, weaving through the endless cathedral of trees that groaned and whispered in the cool wind. Now back outside the southern town's gates, the land stretched wild and open, untamed by cobbled stones or even the decency of packed gravel. Luke sat up front with the reins in hand—though he hardly needed to guide Vartha, who moved with the casual strength of a beast long accustomed to hauling fools through dangerous places.
The trees around them rustled not with birdsong, but with a quiet foreboding.
"So," Ilyrana said, leaning back against the side of the carriage as her gaze flicked to the shifting woods. "You turned down a bed for the forest floor. What's the plan, Luke? What's keeping the bandits away this time?"
Luke glanced back at her and grinned, the shadows of trees passing across his face.
"I'm glad you asked."
