The Next Morning...
Alaric stood where they'd been told, same route, same black cloak wrapped around his frame.
Sari stood a few paces beside him, her hood up, her hands loosely clasped in front of her. Neither spoke.
There was no need.
He glanced up once at the cloud-laden sky, then back to the road. A part of him hoped the wagon might be late, just enough to steal a few more moments of silence before the march into the unknown. But it wasn't.
Wheels creaked in the distance. A moment later, the covered wagon came into view, pulled by a pair of steady-footed horses. No heralds. No banners. Just practicality.
He climbed into the wagon first, then offered his hand to help Sari up, a gesture she accepted with a slight nod that somehow conveyed both gratitude and mild amusement at his courtesy.
The wagon lurched into motion, Alaric let his eyes fall half-shut
