Night descended slowly across the wilderness.
The last breath of daylight melted into shadow, and the stars began to blink awake one by one. Beneath the vast, violet sky, the rock tortoise came to a heavy, groaning halt. Its shell—scarred by years and dust—settled into the earth with a rumble that echoed through the still air.
Luciel glanced up at the horizon, where the faint silver of the coming moon was beginning to edge the hills. "Time to stop for the night," he murmured. He set down his pack, brushed off his gloves, and turned toward the makeshift shelter they called home.
He rapped twice on the wooden door. "Mino. Dinner's ready."
A pause. Then her muffled voice came through, small and uncertain. "You eat first. I'm… not hungry."
Luciel frowned. He leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. "Not hungry?" he muttered under his breath. "She's fourteen. Is this what they call the rebellious phase?"
The door creaked open so suddenly he almost stumbled.
