The road stretched quiet under us, the scent of smoke still lingering on the wind. It clung to my cloak like regret, thin, bitter, and difficult to shake. The field we left behind had gone black beneath the sun, but I didn't need to look back to remember the way the flames had curled around bone.
We had moved quietly for over an hour. No sign of soldiers. No refugees. No patrols. Just the open plain—wide, sunlit, and deceiving.
Shadow padded ahead, ears twitching now and then, eyes fixed on a horizon only he could see. Yaozu rode slightly behind and to my right, close enough to move as one, far enough to keep his field of vision clean.
It should have been peaceful. It would have been, if the back of my neck wasn't prickling.
I didn't say anything. Not yet. I just slowed my horse, letting my fingertips brush the reins with the kind of casual tension that only looks casual.
As if sensing something ahead, Shadow stopped, and I did too.
