Between Storms and Silence

When my eyes returned to Lorik, I found him studying me with an intensity I hadn't expected. He looked like he wanted to speak, to say something that might ground us or give a sense of hope. But in the end, he just exhaled and nodded. Whatever words he had, he kept inside, perhaps not wanting to feed a false sense of optimism. We'd come this far on clarity, and clarity told us we were in danger.

The cold pressed in, and I felt a low ache in my muscles from the night's battles. Yet I forced myself not to show it. That wasn't my way. Instead, I slipped the Gravekeeper's token into a safe pocket in my coat, ensuring it was close at hand if we needed it. My mind reeled through a dozen scenarios—what to do if we were ambushed again, which routes to take if forced to detour, how to deal with Lorik's injuries if they worsened. But outwardly, I remained composed. Always remain composed. It's what's kept me alive this long.