Grath took point with heavy steps that made the grass flatten under his weight.
Ludwig followed at a steady pace that matched his reduced body, refusing to waste energy by trying to move like he used to.
Kaiser walked slightly behind and to the side, staff held like a walking stick and a threat.
Gale moved with that quiet inevitability he always had, even trapped in a different body, eyes scanning the horizon as if the plains were a battlefield map.
There was no sun up in the skies, but it felt like it was early noon. The terrain was a long grass field with no nearby shade but some trees here and there.
The light was bright without warmth, a strange, clean brightness. Wind ran through the grass in waves, and the sound was constant, a whispering ocean of blades. Every now and then, a lone tree broke the line of the plains, its leaves barely moving, and Ludwig noticed the lack of birds. No insects. No small life. The world felt staged around objectives, not naturally alive.
