Morning came slowly on the mountain—if you could even call it morning.
The sky above the lagoon never really turned gold like back on land; it just shifted from deep blue to a paler, glowing shade, like someone had washed the color out of it. The mist thinned, curling lazily over the water, and the air carried that faint metallic scent of magic and dew.
Isabella blinked her eyes open inside the tent. For a moment, she forgot where she was. Then Glimora yawned loudly beside her, a small squeaky sound that broke the stillness, and reality came rushing back.
"Oh right," she muttered, rubbing her face. "Still stuck on the mountain. Still babysitting myself."
Glimora stretched like a cat, little tail flicking. Isabella poked her gently on the forehead. "You sleep like you pay rent in my tent, you know that?"
