The Moon Temple - Part 1
We left before dawn. The pack stood in a long line outside the gates, breath fogging in the cold. No words were spoken-only the lie rustle of cloaks and the faint jingle of harness rings. I could feel their eyes following us, full of things they couldn’t say: pride, fear, superstition. They called me Luna now, but the word sounded like both blessing and warning. Lilly pressed a charm of woven gold into my hand. “For warmth,” she said. “It’s not warmth I’ll need,” I answered, but I kept it anyway. James adjusted the straps on the packhorse, muttering to himself about rations, routes, contingencies-anything to keep from looking at me. Dominic waited by the trail, good drawn, expression unreadable. When I reached him, he offered a simple nod. “Once we pass the northern ridge,” he said,
- Writer
