Morning came cool and clear. Frost still clung to the grass in the shaded hollows when Aiden finished the last circuit of the perimeter. The air carried the clean bite of high country, and the trees stood quiet.
Harren was already moving, checking the carriage traces and the packs lashed under the canvas. The children were awake and restless, rubbing sleep from their eyes and asking when they would reach the next settlement.
Lira had rekindled the fire and set out a simple breakfast of flatbread, dried meat, and the last of the boiled roots, as if the night had never left the trees and nothing unusual had happened.
They ate without much talk. The children focused on the food. Harren kept his attention on the harness and the road ahead.
Aiden sat a short distance apart, eating what was offered and watching the light strengthen across the ridge. The key rested against his ribs under the coat, a steady weight he had grown used to.
