Loren’s POV
The wind carried the scent of pine, damp earths and the faint smoke of evening fires through the territories.
From the high ridge overlooking the village, everything below looked peaceful. Small houses sat between the trees, warm light spilling from windows as people moved through the last hours of the day.
I stood near the edge of the ridge with my hands in my pocket, staring down.
Behind me footsteps approached—slow, familiar, and entirely too unbothered.
Only one person walked like the world was personally happy to have him in it.
Zeke stopped beside me.
“If you keep standing here looking tragic, people are going to assume you have lost something.”
I don’t look at him yet.
He hummed and leaned against the large oak beside us, arms folding easily across his chest.
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