The ridge was already awake when Kael opened his eyes.
It sat in the distance, dark against a paling sky, the faint mist at its base thinning like it didn't want to be caught in daylight.
Aila stirred beside him, her arm flung over her reed mat. "You're up too soon," she mumbled.
"We said we'd start early," Kael replied, glancing at the basin. The water was untroubled, a mirror too clean for this hour. That, more than ripples, made him uneasy. "And I think the middle's listening harder than usual."
The boy appeared from behind one of Tey's stone lines, barefoot, hair sticking up at odd angles. "It knows you're leaving."
"Not leaving," Kael corrected. "Just walking the ridge."
"Same thing for the middle," the boy said, then padded off to fetch water.
---
They gathered near the kiln. Oran was fussing over the clay jar from yesterday. "If the fire's right today, I can finish it before we go."
