The dirt road leading east stretched like a faded scar across the land—long, winding, and quiet. Too quiet.
No caravans.
No farmers.
No travelers.
Just open plains, occasional barren trees, and the crackle of wind brushing through dry grass.
Lyris walked in front, hood drawn, eyes always scanning ahead. Mira followed at a calm pace, staff lightly tapping the ground every few steps. Ragna brought up the rear, greatsword slung across her back, ears twitching every time the wind shifted.
None of them had spoken for nearly an hour.
The road to the eastern frontier was safe enough—safer than roads heading to the Wildlands or Ironspine—but still… it was too quiet.
Eventually, Ragna broke the silence.
"You know what I hate about goblin jobs?"
Mira hummed. "Do I want to know?"
