The convoy was nearly ready by the time Levan guided her toward the horses. The knights moved with quiet efficiency, their armours faintly gleaming beneath the dull light as they checked the packs and tightened the reins.
Levan's hand was warm against her back as he led her to his stallion, a broad-chested dark bay that pawed at the ground restlessly. Without a word, he steadied her by the waist and lifted her up effortlessly. Ilaria grasped the front of the saddle, settling in uncertainly as her cloak brushed against the horse's flank.
He did not mount immediately, instead he lingered for a moment, speaking with the Captain a few steps away about managing the village, his voice half-lost in the wind. Ilaria watched the exchange absently, and her gaze soon wandered over the village once more.
