Morning mist rolled low across Branthollow, curling between wooden fences and fields of barley. The village had always carried a hushed weight in its name — *Branthollow*. Old stories claimed that long ago, a wild bramble grove had burned here, leaving a hollow scar on the land. Farmers cleared it, homes were built, but the name stuck: a reminder that fire always lingered in the soil.
To Mira, it was home.
She moved carefully among the beasts of Draven's sanctuary, a basket in her arms. The mule stamped as she brushed its flank. The scarred hound leaned against her leg while she cleaned its ear. Luma, the goat, bleated impatiently until she scattered fresh feed. Even the broken-winged crows hopped closer, cawing for scraps.
Mira smiled faintly despite the weight in her chest. "You're all restless today," she whispered. "Like you can feel something coming."
---
By midday, Branthollow bustled. Farmers patched fences, children raced through the lanes, and women gossiped at the well. But Mira felt the unease creeping underneath it all — the same unease she'd heard in the tavern two nights ago. Dominion soldiers marching. The League gathering. War on the horizon.
When the thunder of hooves broke the afternoon quiet, her blood went cold.
A patrol of Dominion scouts rode into the village.
They came five strong, armored in black and crimson leathers that gleamed with oil. Their beasts were muscled, scarred, muzzles clamped tight with iron rings. Each bore the Dominion's mark burned deep into its chest. The riders carried themselves with casual authority, eyes sharp as knives, as though the village were already theirs.
Villagers stopped what they were doing, heads bowing low. No one dared meet their gaze.
Mira's pulse quickened.
The soldiers dismounted, boots heavy against the dirt, and spoke with the headman in clipped tones.
"…command requires reports. The League stirs to the west."
"…orders to keep this area compliant."
"…unmarked beasts, roaming too freely."
Their words cut sharp in the open air, casual yet laced with threat.
One soldier gestured toward Draven's house. "Report said this village keeps strays."
Mira's heart thudded. She forced herself to step forward, clutching her basket. "They're not strays. They're marked. My brother keeps the records."
The soldier's gaze narrowed. "Records?"
"Inside. Old parchment, ink. He keeps them in the chest."
The men exchanged looks. One moved toward the pen, eyes narrowing at the hound, then at Luma. He crouched, tugging at the faint charcoal mark Draven had drawn weeks before. The ink smudged under his glove.
Mira's throat closed.
The hound growled low, but Mira snapped her fingers. It stilled, pressing close to her leg. Luma bleated once and quieted. The mule stamped but did not lash out.
The soldier studied her, then the beasts. Finally, he sneered. "…Poor ink. Typical for a backwater. Still, they obey. For now."
He straightened, voice raised so the headman and others could hear. "Keep your beasts marked. Dominion law is order. Unmarked creatures will be culled. Next patrol won't waste time."
Mira felt the words like ice down her spine. *Culled.*
The soldiers mounted again, banners snapping as they turned toward the road. One spat into the dirt as he passed. "Warfront draws near. Villages like this won't stay quiet much longer."
Then they rode off, their iron-hooved beasts leaving churned mud in their wake.
---
Mira stood frozen until the last hoofbeat faded. Then her hands shook so badly the basket slipped from her fingers, spilling grain across the dirt.
She dropped to her knees, clutching Luma as the goat pressed against her. The hound whined, licking her hand. Tears burned at her eyes, but she swallowed them down.
"I won't let them take you," she whispered fiercely. "No matter what comes, I'll protect this place. Until he returns, I'll keep you safe."
The words trembled, but they steadied something deep inside her.
Above, the evening sun bled into the horizon, setting Branthollow's sky aflame. For a moment, Mira wondered if the old stories were true — that fire lingered in the soil.
And if it did, she would carry that fire until Draven came back.