The night was too still.
As though it already knew something I didn't, the forest had fallen silent in that heavy, waiting manner.
Beneath the ash, the silver glow from the earth's veins had faded to a pulse. Thorn was a few feet away, crouched near what was left of the riverbed, running his fingers through the cooling embers. It had been minutes since he had spoken. The silence between us was beginning to feel like a wall.
Then there was a sound.
Behind me, soft footsteps. Too careful to be a foe.
"Mira," I inhaled.
Her face was unreadable as she stepped into the dim light, her hair streaked with soot. But it was her eyes, not her silence, that stopped me cold. Not fear. Not relief.
Resignation.
“We need to talk,” she said.
Thorn stood, instantly on edge. “Now’s not the time—”
“
