*Xelina*

The sky is pale with the first stretch of dawn when I open my eyes. Dew clings to the edges of the bedroll, and smoke from last night’s fire curls faintly in the air, a ghost of warmth. For a moment, I don’t move, my heart already racing. Today, I may see my father.

Lazlo stirs beside me, sitting up without a word. His gaze finds mine, but he doesn’t ask if I’m ready. He doesn’t need to. I don’t think I ever will be.

We pack in silence. The rhythm of it soothes me–the folding of blankets, the buckling of saddle straps, the gentle hush of my fingers...