Chapter 54: Brindle's Cross
A full week had passed since they'd left the wooded stream behind, and the shift in the weather was no longer subtle—it was impossible to ignore.
The sharp morning chill that had nipped at their faces when they set out had melted away entirely.
The wind no longer stung; it blew warm and soft, carrying the sweet, earthy scent of blooming wildflowers and sun‑baked soil.
The grasslands stretched endlessly ahead, gilded by sunlight, and the days grew longer, brighter, warmer with every mile they traveled south.
Hannah fell quiet more often than before, her gaze drifting toward the horizon.
Nostalgia settled in her chest, light but unshakable.
This warmth was nothing like the North, the lands where the Benningtons—her old family—had made their home.
There, even summer mornings carried a faint frost, and winter arrived early, brutal and unending, freezing breath mid‑air and turning every stone brittle.
