Dawn crept quietly across the horizon, brushing pale gold over the tops of the trees. The lake shimmered faintly under the morning light, still and cold as glass.
Elara awoke with heavy eyes and an ache in her chest that felt unfamiliar. She had not slept well—had barely slept at all, in fact. The white-haired girl lay staring at the ceiling for hours last night, her mind caught in a tangle of thoughts she didn't want to name. When sleep finally claimed her, it brought dreams that left her cheeks burning and her heart pounding against her ribs.
Now, morning light filled the small cabin, and fatigue clung to her like mist. She yawned softly, dragging a pale hand across her face.
"Pull yourself together," she muttered, giving her cheek a firm pat. The cold sting of her own fingers helped a little.
She dressed quickly, smoothing her long white hair and pinning it back with a thin strip of cloth. Then, with a sigh, she stepped into the main room.
