[Lavinia's POV—Moonlit Camp—Continuation]
The wind was sharp tonight.
Cold enough to bite, quiet enough to hear a pin drop, still enough that even the tents seemed to hold their breath. I'd stepped outside only because Marshi insisted on a walk—tail flicking, practically dragging me by the cloak.
And then—
"HOW DARE YOU—!!"
A shout tore through the night. My blood iced. That voice—Osric.
I quickened my pace, boots scraping gravel.
I rounded the corner—and froze.
Osric's fist hovered mid-air.
Haldor didn't move—frozen like a blade about to strike, shoulders tight, jaw clenched, every instinct ready to snap into violence.
And my voice tore through the night, "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!!!"
The sound echoed across the entire camp. Both men jerked toward me instantly.
Osric's fist hung just inches from Haldor's jaw. Haldor's hand was already on the hilt of his sword. One heartbeat more, and one of them would have bled.
