The road beyond the orchard bent south, curling through low hills that carried the scent of damp stone and wild thyme.
By mid-morning, the sun had burned away the last of the dawn mist, leaving the air sharp and clean.
Tian Shen kept his pace steady, not forcing the Scouts to march hard, but not letting them linger either.
He walked at the head of the column, spear resting across his shoulders, eyes sweeping the horizon the way a man checks a game board before making his next move.
He'd learned long ago that danger didn't always announce itself with noise — sometimes it was in the silence that stretched just a little too long.
Feng Yin trailed a half-step behind, hands folded loosely at her back, her gaze often drawn to the hills on their left.
Ji Luan and Little Mei followed in their own quiet, the former scanning for tracks, the latter occasionally glancing skyward where Drowsy circled at a comfortable height.
