The sun hadn't yet risen when Emerie left the note on the bedside table.
No goodbye, no explanation—just a simple line written in steady script:
Thank you for giving me a reason to live. Now I must face the reasons I once ran.
She slipped out of Albert's cabin silently, the moonstone pendant cold against her collarbone. Her cloak was travel-worn but familiar, like armor that remembered every wound.
By the time the first light crept over Thunder Paw's mesa, she was already gone.
---
When Albert found the note, he stared at it for a long time.
He didn't pace. Didn't call for guards.
Instead, he folded it gently and tucked it into his jacket.
“She's not running," he said aloud.
Mira, leaning in the doorway, nodded. “She's finishing what you helped her survive."
He met her gaze. “Th
