Vargr followed Lena down the narrow forest path.
After a short trek, they reached a clearing where a grand carriage stood waiting. Two powerful black horses stood hitched to it, their breath misting the cool night air.
A cloaked figure leaned against the carriage, hand on the hilt of a sheathed sword. At the sight of Lena, he straightened.
“You’re late,” the man said, his voice sharp yet familiar.
Vargr’s eyes narrowed. The man’s face was hidden beneath his hood, but the smug stance — and the hint of a smirk — put Vargr on edge.
“Who’s this?” Vargr asked, stepping protectively beside Lena.
She ignored him, pulling open the carriage door. “We need to leave. The guards will notice I'm gone soon.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Vargr pressed.
The cloaked man chuckled. “Relax.” He pu
