Lindarion adjusted the strap of his pack one last time. The leather had grown stiff overnight, cold from where it had rested near the door. It pulled slightly at his shoulder, but not enough to matter.
He shifted the weight, felt it settle against his spine.
'Good enough.'
The fire crackled behind him. Low. One of the logs split in the heat with a dry pop.
He didn't look back at it. They were done here. Whatever this place had given them, it had already been taken. Warmth. Space. Names.
And now it was time to move again.
Lira stood a little to his left. Cloaked now, shadowed in the gray light that leaked through the window slits. She hadn't said much since agreeing.
Just stood there like a stone shaped to look like a person who might, one day, speak again.
Ren adjusted her coat with short flicks of her fingers. She wasn't fidgeting. Not really. Just treating her own clothes like they needed to impress someone.
'Probably herself.'
