Dawn came fast, pink and gold painting the sky over Southbrook's palisade, the air crisp and cool,
the world quiet save for the chirp of early birds and the clink of their gear as they loaded the cart.
They packed everything into a single wooden cart pulled by Hannah's mare Bess—a sturdy brown horse with a white blaze on her face,
who'd carried her through countless dungeon runs and forest treks.
The cart was stuffed with mana potions Mimi had brewed, dried meat and hardtack, Toby's herb mix (dried firemint, starflower, stonecress, and a few others for healing and mana recovery),
a dozen loaves of honey bread from the baker's (Ren's request),
a ceramic jug of fresh milk for the dragon, and their weapons and armor—Mimi's staff,
Mike's bow and arrows, Bart's axe, Hannah's dagger.
Hannah slung the egg over her back, the sling tight and secure, and Ren curled in his tabby-cat form in her cloak's hood,
