The Sun dimmed, night was nearly upon them.
The valley widened as they descended, the gentle slope giving way to a bustling town tucked at the base of the mountains. Smoke curled from chimneys, mixing with the crisp evening air, and the faint clatter of carts and horses echoed across the cobblestone streets.
"Look there," Ryan murmured.
His elbow nudged into Eleanor and he pointed ahead. "A town."
The town's walls rose only a few metres high, enough to mark the boundary, but the gates were open wide. Lanterns flickered along the streets, casting warm light across the timbered buildings. People milled about—farmers, merchants, and guards, they all paused to watch the small band approach.
As the group entered the town gate, villagers and a couple guards hurried forward with friendly curiosity.
"You there! From the mountains?" a stout woman called, beckoning them closer. "Did you come from the frontline?"
Myna inclined her head. "Yes, we've come from the encampments."
