A Day's Ride West

Lira woke to the sound of a knife scraping against stone.

Pale dawn light seeped through the inn's grime-caked window, painting Kael's silhouette in shades of ash.

He sat at the room's lone table, the air smelled sharp, metallic—the scent of preparation.

"You ever sleep?" Lira croaked, squinting at the dark circles beneath his eyes. She tossed aside the moth-eaten blanket, her boots hitting the floor with a thud.

"Or is being robotic just your aesthetic?"

Kael didn't look up. "You said the caravans leave at first light."

"Uh-huh. And staying up all night helps with that?" She rummaged through her pack, pulling out a dented canteen.

The water inside tasted like rust. "Relax. We'll charm our way onto a wagon, steal some breakfast, and be knee-deep in cursed ruins by noon. Easy."

He sheathed the blade of here dagger he was sharpening, the sound final, like a tomb sealing.

"You talk too much."