The road stretched quiet through charred fields. Smoke clung to the horizon, faint and bitter, as though the land itself had been wounded.
Rowan glanced toward the treeline, where the wolf padded in and out of sight, its coat shifting with bark and moss until it all but vanished between steps.
He cleared his throat. "Ashwyn… what do I call that thing? 'The wolf' feels a bit rude if it's going to keep shadowing us."
Ashwyn's lips curved, the barest hint of a smile. "Bramble. That is his name."
"Bramble," Rowan repeated. The wolf's ear twitched, as if it had heard and approved.
Brennar grunted. "Better than 'wolf.'"
Nyx smirked. "Better than some names."
Rowan raised his brows. "I wasn't going to bring up Pan."
Pan's eyes glimmered faintly from a thicket, silent as ever.
Ari's gaze lingered there longer than the others'. She tilted her head, watching the beast slide in and out of sight. "I can't track it," she admitted at last. "Even Oriel loses it sometimes."
Nyx's lips curved, not quite a smile. "Good."
It was a simple word, sharp-edged, but for once there was no mockery behind it. Ari didn't answer, but she didn't argue either.
Lyra shifted her pack higher on her shoulder. "So Bramble and Pan," she murmured. Then she looked at Ashwyn. "And the stag? Does it have a name too?"
Ashwyn's gaze lifted to the canopy, where dappled light broke through. "It will. Some names are given. Some are earned."
Brennar snorted. "Always with the riddles, old man."
Ashwyn's expression didn't change. "Not riddles. Truths."
That silenced the group for a while. Only the crunch of boots on dirt and the steady whisper of wind through blackened fields filled the air.
---
The silence pressed on Rowan until he spoke again. "Doesn't it bother anyone else that we're always too late?" His voice was rougher than he meant it to be. "By the time we reach a village, it's already gone. Or emptied. Or worse."
Brennar rolled his shoulder. "That's war, lad. You're never first. Only lucky or fast."
Rowan shook his head, heat rising in his chest. "Then we should be fast. Otherwise what are we doing? Just walking roads, counting ashes?"
Brennar's eyes narrowed. "Careful, boy. You think you're the first to wish for speed? You'll break yourself running after shadows."
Rowan stopped short, gripping his harpoon so tight his knuckles whitened. "I'd rather break myself than keep burying strangers."
The words hung heavy. Even Brennar's mouth tightened, as though the boy had struck true.
Ari's brow arched, breaking the silence. "And what do you suggest?"
Rowan nodded toward her hawk. "Oriel can see farther than we ever could. Send her wide. If she spots trails or camps, maybe we can cut across and get ahead before the raiders do."
Ari hesitated, her bowstring coiled loose in her hands. "It risks losing her. Spirits don't fly like birds forever. Call them too far, and sometimes they don't come back."
Rowan's jaw set. "And if we keep following the road, we'll just keep finding ashes. I'd rather take the chance."
For a long moment, Ari studied him. Then she whistled low. Oriel launched skyward, beating strong wings until it was a speck against the gray. Ari's eyes glazed faintly as her vision threaded through her soulkin's.
Nyx muttered, half to herself, "Look at you, playing commander already."
Rowan ignored her, though the words set a weight in his chest. He hadn't meant it like that. He just didn't want to bury more empty houses.
Ashwyn's voice rumbled from the rear. "The boy is right. The strings of fate favor those who do not simply follow them."
They walked on beneath a bruised sky, waiting for Oriel to return with news from the horizon.
---
By evening, they made camp in the lee of a broken wall. It had once been part of a farmhouse, but only a single stretch of stone stood now, scorched but upright. The group huddled in its shadow, a small fire snapping against the chill.
The smell of charred fields lingered on the breeze. Rowan poked the flames with a stick, listening to the crackle. Every pop reminded him of burning roofs.
Brennar tossed a bundle of dry twigs on the fire. "You've got fight in you, Rowan. I'll give you that. But fight without sense? That's how you end up dead. Sending a hawk out wide—"
"Oriel," Ari corrected, her eyes still half-clouded.
"Fine. Oriel. Risky play." Brennar jabbed the stick into the fire. "You sure you're not just trying to swing harder than your arms can carry?"
Rowan met his gaze across the flames. "I don't want to watch another village burn before we even get there. If that means trying harder, then yes. I'll swing until I can't."
Brennar leaned forward, his face lit sharp by firelight. "And what happens when you fall? When you swing and miss? Who do you think pays then?"
Rowan's chest tightened. He hadn't expected the words to sting so much. He swallowed, his voice quieter. "I don't know. I just… I can't stand being too late anymore."
For a long moment, Brennar stared into the fire. Then he leaned back with a grunt, folding his arms. "Good. As long as you know the weight of it. Power without burden isn't power. It's just noise."
Lyra's soft voice broke in. "Even so. Even if we can't save everyone, saving someone is worth the risk."
Ashwyn's staff rested across his knees. The firelight etched his face in deep lines. "Every step we take is a thread drawn tighter. You feel it, don't you? The pull. The forest whispers it. The spirits move. This path is not chance. It is chosen."
Rowan looked down at his hands. The calluses from his harpoon were new, the rope burns still raw. He clenched them slowly. Maybe Ashwyn was right. Maybe this wasn't chance.
---
Ari stiffened suddenly. Her eyes cleared of the soulkin haze, pupils sharp. "She's back."
Oriel spiraled down from the dark sky, talons scraping stone as she landed on the wall. Her feathers bristled, head jerking east. Ari's expression tightened as the vision flowed back into her own.
"What is it?" Rowan asked.
Ari's voice was clipped. "Smoke. Too much of it. And trails—many trails. A raiding party, moving fast, cutting across the fields toward the next village."
Rowan's stomach dropped. "How far?"
"Half a day, maybe less." Ari stroked Oriel's feathers, steadying the hawk. "If we move now, and cut through the marsh, we might reach it first."
Nyx pushed up from the wall, Pan already a ripple of shadow on the edge of the firelight. "Finally," she said, her tone flat but hungry. "Something we're not late for."
Rowan rose, harpoon in hand. His chest thudded with both fear and fire. This time, maybe they could make a difference.