The carriage lurched as the driver snapped the reins, the horses snorting in unison. Wooden wheels groaned against the cobblestones, each turn rattling through the frame and up into the benches. Outside, the last echoes of the square trailed after them — the rise and fall of voices, the clatter of hooves, the thin laughter of children chasing wagons for a few steps before peeling away.
As they rolled past the edge of the village, the mist swallowed the view in shifting curtains of white. Shadows of rooftops and fence posts blurred, dissolving into nothing as the road opened ahead. The smell of damp earth thickened, mingled with the musk of horses and the faint tang of iron from the carriage fittings.
Inside, the sway was constant but steady, the planks creaking under every bump. Stray beams of light pierced the canvas cover in narrow slits, striping the benches in gold. The bracelets, tossed into their laps, jingled softly with each jolt, like a reminder they hadn't asked for.
Behind them, the square was already fading — its noise and color giving way to the muffled quiet of the road. The only rhythm now was the steady thrum of hooves, pulling them farther from the village and deeper into the unknown.
✦✦✦
Thrynn had claimed a spot in the front corner, posture sharp and steady, while Mivara leaned against her like she was the world's most unwilling armrest. The carriage rocked over uneven stones, each jolt making the wooden frame groan.
Across from them, four children crowded together, knees touching, whispering and giggling as they played some fast-tapping game with their fingers. Every so often, one of them stole a glance at the travelers' bags. At the far end, a guardian sat near the window, sword across his lap, polishing the blade with patient strokes as if nothing in the world could distract him.
Finally, one of the boys — messy-haired, blue-eyed, full of barely contained energy — pointed at Thrynn and Mivara's packs. "Those are huge," he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Before Mivara could respond, two of the other kids leaned in, grinning. "Probably full of stolen treasure," one whispered.
"Or secret weapons," another added.
Blue-eyes puffed up his chest, stabbing his finger at the bags like he'd cracked some code. "Definitely treasure." Then he shifted his gaze to Mivara, smirk spreading. "What's in it?"
"None of your bu—" Mivara stopped mid-snap, yawning so wide it undercut the threat. She flopped her hand dismissively. "Ugh. You are…?"
"Riven," the boy said proudly, stabbing his finger at her this time, his dramatics making the other children snicker. "Now tell me what's in the bags."
Mivara dragged a hand down her face. "Let me take a break. Ask Thrynn."
Instantly, Riven swiveled with exaggerated flair, finger jabbing toward Thrynn like a knight declaring a challenge. "Thrynn! Is that your name? Tell me what's inside!"
The other kids erupted into laughter, chiming in like a chorus. "Tell us! Tell us! Tell us!"
Thrynn didn't move. Her gaze stayed locked on the road ahead through the slit in the canvas, memorizing every twist and turn with silent precision. If she heard the children's chants, she gave no sign.
Then, without warning, she shoved Mivara sideways.
"Hey—!" Mivara yelped as her support vanished, tumbling off the bench and landing in an undignified sprawl against the floorboards.
The guardian finally turned from the window, one brow raised. "Someone is studying hard for their Traveler's Exam," he remarked evenly, "and the other is slacking off."
Face still pressed to the floor, Mivara muttered, "I am not slacking off. I'm just tired…"
"Bump ahead! Hold on!" the coachman shouted from the front.
"Sh—!" Mivara began, but the guardian cut in smoothly. "No, lady. We don't use that word here. Use 'Skath' instead."
The bump hit mid-sentence, bouncing the whole carriage. Mivara flew forward, crashing headfirst into the pile of packs.
She groaned, muffled by canvas. "What was the word again?"
"Skath."
"Skathhhh!" she wailed dramatically.
The children burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs.
One of them leaned forward eagerly. "So what's in the bag, then?"
Mivara smirked from where she was half-buried. "It's a monster. Trapped in a cage. We're taking it to a safe place to finish it off."
As if on cue, one of the bags slid with the next jolt, giving a heavy thump. The kid's face drained of color.
"It moved!" he squeaked.
Riven, eyes wide but clearly unwilling to back down, snatched a thin stick from the floor and jabbed it at the bag. The others huddled behind him, squealing at every poke.
"Kids these days," Mivara muttered under her breath, peeling herself off the packs.
"You're also a kid," the guardian noted dryly.
Mivara sat up, flinging her arm in dramatic protest. "Noooo. I'm seventeen!"
"Exactly what I said," the guardian teased, lips twitching. "Kids these days."
From the corner, a soft laugh escaped Thrynn, quick and sharp.
Mivara whipped her head toward her. "What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing," Thrynn murmured, still watching the road. "Just saw someone get dumped."
Mivara finally clambered back onto her bench, brushing straw and dust off her cloak. The guardian gave her a firm hand, steadying her with an almost imperceptible smile.
"So…" she began, dusting herself off, "why are you carrying a sword?"
"For the same reason you're carrying one," he replied casually.
Mivara froze mid-motion. How does he know I'm carrying a sword? she thought, eyes narrowing. Thrynn's brow arched, equally startled.
"Self-protection. From thieves," Mivara said, trying to sound casual.
"Yeah, me too," Vaer said, glancing down at her hand resting on her lap. "But my list also includes wild creatures. Can I take a look at your sword?"
Mivara adopted a mock flourish, reaching for her belt. "Yeah, why not…" Her hand swept over the spot where her weapon should have been. "Skathhhh! Where's my sword?!"
"In the bag," Thrynn interjected, calm as ever.
Mivara groaned, sliding the zipper open and fishing through the pack. Metal clinked faintly as she lifted the hilt into the dim sunlight filtering through the canvas. "Ah, here we go."
Vaer eyed her hand carefully as she held the weapon out. Fingers slightly calloused, veins faintly tracing the back of her hand, knuckles tensed from gripping the hilt. Subtle scars and a faint tan line hinted at years of practice — just enough to reveal a careful, trained hand without her saying a word.
"That explains it," he murmured, nodding appreciatively.
Thrynn and Mivara exchanged a quick glance, silent thoughts running in tandem: And here we thought we'd gotten caught.
The carriage creaked onward, dust swirling in the early light, the road stretching before them and the playful hum of children in the background.
✦✦✦
Vaer leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing in mock inspection. "Hmm. Not bad. Your grip is steady… but a little stiff."
Mivara blinked. "Stiff? Excuse me, my grip is perfectly fine."
"Too tight," Vaer countered, lips tugging into the faintest smirk. "Sword should breathe with you, not choke under your hand. Right now, you're strangling it."
Mivara's cheeks flushed. "I am not strangling my sword."
Thrynn let out a soft snort from the corner. "She strangles her pillow when she sleeps, too."
"Thrynn!" Mivara shot her a glare before whipping her head back toward Vaer. "It's called a firm hold, thank you very much."
"Firm is different from desperate," Vaer replied smoothly, clearly enjoying himself. "If you grip like that in a fight, your arms will tire too quickly. Loosen just a touch."
He mimed holding an invisible sword, wrist relaxed, shoulders easy. The gesture was so fluid it made the point without needing more words.
Mivara adjusted, reluctantly loosening her fingers around the hilt. "Like this?"
"Better." Vaer leaned back, satisfied. "At least now your sword won't start complaining."
The children, who had been half-listening, burst into giggles.
"Do swords really complain?" one boy piped up.
"Only if mistreated," Vaer said with mock gravity. "And from the looks of it, hers has been suffering in silence."
Mivara groaned, burying her face in her free hand. "Skathhhh… why did I even ask?"
"Because you wanted to learn," Vaer answered simply.
And though she rolled her eyes, a tiny smile betrayed her.