The Caravan pulled off the hidden path into a clearing that seemed purpose-built for this exact moment.
Trees formed a natural barrier on three sides, their branches interlocking overhead like clasped fingers. The fourth side opened toward a gentle slope where a stream trickled past — the sound of it soft and constant, almost musical in the growing dark. The air smelled different here. Cleaner. Pine and wet earth and something faintly sweet, like wildflowers had bloomed nearby and left their memory behind.
People moved with practiced efficiency. This wasn't their first time doing this, clearly. Wagons were arranged in a loose semicircle, horses unhitched and led toward the water, and fires began sprouting up in carefully dug pits that looked like they'd been used many times before. The ground around them was blackened in perfect circles, the grass worn away to hard-packed dirt.
