The sun had barely dipped below the horizon when they found a place to make camp—a small clearing surrounded by ancient oaks that seemed to have stood watch for centuries. Their thick, gnarled branches reached out over the clearing, forming a dark canopy that blotted out the emerging stars.
Lucien dismounted first, his movements fluid and deliberate as he began to unsaddle the horses. Sienna followed, her eyes scanning the tree line, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her shoulders. Calder was last, his expression a mix of wonder and unease as he took in the unfamiliar forest.
They worked in silence, gathering dry wood for the fire. Sienna’s hands were steady, though her mind was racing. Every crack of a twig in the underbrush made her flinch, and she found herself glancing a
