The morning after patrol, the sun hung low behind a thin veil of clouds, casting a cool, muted light over the recovering packlands. Isla woke to the scent of earth and rain on the wind, the echoes of last night’s spirit encounter still a haunting ache in her chest. The warmth she'd felt from her parents’ message lingered like a fragile ember small, but stubbornly alight.
The air was crisp, filled with the gentle chorus of awakening birds and the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a hesitant breeze. Every breath she drew felt weighted with the memories and the losses etched deep into the soil beneath her feet. The packlands, scarred but healing, stretched in quiet testimony to battles won and sacrifices made. Each stone and tree seemed to hum with the echoes of those who had fought before t
