Mist clung low across the fields, softening the world into pale silver shapes. The company rode at an easy pace, hooves muffled on the damp earth. Breath steamed from the horses, rising into the chill morning air before vanishing into the fog.
Kaelen kept to the rear, as he often did. From there he could see the company stretched out along the road, shapes shifting in and out of the mist like ghosts. Garen hummed some half-remembered tune. Mira and Veyar rode side by side, their braids damp with dew. Deyric drifted from one rider to the next, restless energy spilling from him like sparks, eager for talk even at dawn.
It should have felt peaceful.
Kaelen tried to let it. The rhythm of the road, the steady sway of his mare, the cool damp on his face. For once, the weight in his chest loos
