The storm had passed by morning, but the air still carried its chill. The valley was soaked and silent, broken only by the cries of distant crows. Evelyn stood at the ridge overlooking the camp, her cloak heavy with damp, her eyes tracing the horizon where the clouds had torn apart to reveal a pale, silver moon still lingering in the sky.
It was not the full moon, yet its presence felt sharper, hungrier. As if the Moon Goddess herself was watching with anticipation.
Behind her, footsteps approached. Damien's scent reached her before his voice did — a faint mix of pine and blood that always made her heart twist.
"You didn't sleep again," he said quietly.
Evelyn didn't turn. "There wasn't time. The scouts are preparing to move by noon. I want every border watched, every messenger route doubled."
Damien came to stand beside her. His eyes looked darker than usual, the shadows beneath them deeper. "You're pushing yourself too hard."
