The warmth of the day had dulled into the golden embrace of evening when Luke stirred awake. His back ached faintly from lying against the uneven earth, but the discomfort was softened by the cooling air and the quiet rustle of leaves overhead. He blinked against the fading light, catching the rich orange streaks that brushed the sky as the sun began its slow descent westward.
Beside him, Ilyrana rose with far more grace. The elf brushed dust and blades of grass from her pale cloak, her silver hair glinting faintly in the last light of day. Even after hours of rest, her sharp eyes scanned their surroundings with quiet attentiveness, though Luke noted it was less out of concern and more out of habit. Vartha too stirred, the striped beast yawning wide, her massive jaws parting to reveal fangs that caught the glow like polished ivory before she rolled onto her paws with a heavy thud.
