Their group stood out like blood on snow. Road-worn and tense, they moved with the heightened awareness of those who had survived too much to ever truly relax.
Thorin's beard was matted with dust from the trail, Nik's usually impeccable clothes hung in tatters, and Renna's knuckles remained white around her peace-tied spear.
Even Cale, typically impossible to read, kept his eyes moving constantly, cataloging every potential threat.
A guard's gaze lingered on them a moment too long. Apollo felt rather than saw Lyra stiffen beside him.
"We need to blend in," she said, voice low but carrying to each of them. "We're too obvious like this. Traveling together, looking like we've fought our way through hell."
"Haven't we?" Nik muttered, but his usual humor fell flat.
Lyra's mouth tightened. "Split up. Meet back at sundown. Renna and I will find the lodging. The rest of you…" she swept her gaze across them, "...try to look like you belong here."
