They walked down from the hill, the grass brushing lightly against their legs. The ground leveled out again, turning into a long, open stretch of meadow. There were no sharp turns, no sudden changes—just a clear, steady path ahead.
Fate walked a little faster now, not rushing, but with a bit more energy. "It feels easy here," they said.
"Yes," the Dreamer replied. "Some paths are meant to be gentle."
They kept going, and soon the scenery shifted again. The grass became shorter, and small patches of wildflowers appeared—yellow, white, and a few light purple ones. Fate crouched for a moment to look at one of them.
"It's small," they said, touching the petals softly. "But nice."
"Small things can be comforting," the Dreamer said.
Fate stood up again, and they continued walking. The air was still warm, but not too much. A light wind moved past them, carrying the faint scent of flowers. In the distance, they noticed a line of stones—smooth, rounded, and placed almost like markers.
