The maple leaves rattled like soft applause as Miles ran. Morning light threaded through the branches in thin gold ribbons; the air tasted of sap and something like promise. He slowed as two familiar figures broke through the trees—Dion, steady as ever, and Flora, still carrying that calm that made everything feel less urgent.
Flora smiled, breath fogging in the cool air. "Last night I never saw you had a mini forest all to yourself. Maple trees and everything. This place is amazing."
Miles wiped his face with the back of his hand and returned the smile. "You should have taken a rest."
Dion shrugged and stretched. "Routine. Graveyard habits die slowly. I work out every morning. Keep your head clean."
Miles laughed, the sound light and easy for once. "That's true, comrade."
