The morning light filtered through the ancient canopy above the hidden grove, painting the forest floor in soft, dappled gold. Liam stirred on the bed of woven leaves and moss, his body aching in that familiar way that came from pushing too hard, too fast. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. The girls were already up—Ellara adjusting the straps of her dark leather armor with quiet efficiency, Mira brushing out her hair with careful fingers, and the others moving about with the graceful certainty of those who had risen with the dawn. They looked rested, alert, alive. A quiet relief settled in his chest.
'They're okay. We made it through another night.'
