The Ixchele moved like shadows across the southern plains—quiet, fast, deliberate. Their journey home was long, their camp set each night beneath dark skies, with no fires large enough to draw attention.
Not hiding. Just conserving what little they had left.
Sofia found them just before dusk.
The sun dipped low behind her as she landed at the edge of a ridgeline, feathers folding into skin as her shift melted away. She stood barefoot in the dust, wind-stung and breathless.
The trail had taken her two days of flying. Two days of silence. Two days of wondering if she was foolish to follow him.
And still, she came.
The wind pushed against her back like a whisper. Low brush danced beneath her feet. Far below, the Ixchele moved like they were made of the land itself—silent but certain, e
