Nevara
I woke to sunlight spilling across my pillow, soft and golden, the kind that only comes after a night of dreamless sleep. For the first time in months, I hadn’t jolted awake from shouting, slamming doors, or the echo of Tobias’s voice slicing through my head.
Just silence.
And birdsong.
The fire had long gone out, but the cabin still held a comfortable warmth. I stretched, yawning, and smiled when my muscles didn’t ache for once. Maybe it was the air up here—clean, sharp, full of pine and promise—or maybe it was just the freedom finally settling into my bones.
After a quick breakfast of toast, eggs, and the last of the orange juice, I tugged my hair into a loose braid and stepped outside.
The morning air was cool but pleasant, the kind that kissed your skin rather than bit it.
