They didn’t speak as they moved.
The forest demanded quiet—not the tense silence of hiding, but the deep, listening hush of something ancient allowing passage. Elara walked slightly ahead now, not by agreement but by gravity. The path revealed itself to her in subtle ways: roots shifting just enough to avoid a stumble, branches parting before they brushed her shoulders, the ground firming beneath her boots when it should have been slick.
She felt it all.
Not as control.
As acknowledgment.
Rachel noticed too. Elara could sense it in the way her steps adjusted without conscious thought, the way her grip on Gina loosened just enough when the trail smoothed, tightened again when it narrowed. Trust was forming—not blind, not easy, but real.
Gina’s breathing grew steadier as they went, tho
