Morning light broke gently across the sands, painting the dunes in a golden glow as warmth began to seep into the world once more. Luke stirred from his bedroll with a long, weary stretch, his eyes squinting against the brightness that filtered through the veil of his lashes. Beside him, Ilyrana was already awake, her elven discipline as steady as ever, preparing their things with quiet efficiency. Vartha stood nearby, snorting lightly as she pawed at the ground, impatient for movement.
There was no hurry, however. As with every day of travel, routine mattered more than haste. They first took their time for breakfast, sharing dried fruits, hard bread, and strips of smoked meat, all softened with water they had managed to ration wisely. The morning meal was plain, yet the quiet ritual of eating together gave them a rare sense of normalcy amidst the constant uncertainty of the desert.
