Morning in Silvermist arrived gently. Golden sunlight seeped through the gaps in the wooden windows of the inn room, illuminating the cold stone floor and the thick wool blanket on the bed. The air was still cool with the morning breeze carrying the aroma of fresh bread baking in the kitchen downstairs, mixed with the scent of dew on the paving stones and a faint smell of horses from the backyard.
Sylvia, Stacia, and Alicia woke earlier than most of the inn's guests. They had a light breakfast in the still-quiet dining hall: warm, crispy bread with sweet wild fruit jam, steaming thin beef soup, and a glass of fresh water. They ate in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging glances to plan the day ahead.
