Ana jolted upright, her heart racing as a splash of icy water dragged her from the depths of chaotic dreams. Her hand moved instinctively, gripping the hilt of a blade before her eyes had fully opened. It gleamed in the morning light, a bright arc that cut through the room's shadows as she swung, nearly catching Caden before reality forced its way back. She froze, her breath jagged and heavy, then pressed trembling hands to her temples. The sword slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor as she stumbled toward a battered wooden bucket and retched violently. Caden stood motionless, wide eyes betraying his anxiety, his voice a soft, tentative whisper through the fog of her pain.

Her tunic clung damply to her skin, its fabric dark with patches of water and dry blood. It hung askew on her shoulders, the once vibrant blue faded and stained from long travel and hard living. She wiped at her mouth with a sleeve, the cloth rough and just shy of threadbare, before turning a bleary gaze toward Caden.

"Sorry! You didn't wake up, and I thought... Are you...?"

Ana let out a groan and bent forward, trying to steady herself as vivid colors and jarring sounds ricocheted through her mind in chaotic fragments. Her heartbeat throbbed fiercely, overwhelming her ability to think. Eventually, her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the cold stone ground. The chill seeped through her clothing, indifferent to her distress, providing no solace as the tempest within her continued to rage.

"Some mornings," she managed, each word a struggle, "it'd be more merciful to kill me."

Caden hovered, his concern palpable, uncertain whether to approach or keep his distance. Ana's voice had been sharper than intended, cutting through the air with a brittle edge. She saw his hesitation, the flicker of hurt in his eyes, and softened—barely.

"I'll be fine. Just need a moment."

Caden swallowed hard, nodding with a seriousness that seemed out of place for his fourteen years. "It's just, last night... your nightmares..."

"Nightmares? Is that what you call a night full of gut-wrenching misery?" Ana retorted. She could feel the cold sweat clinging to her skin, the sickly aftertaste of fear and confusion still bitter in her mouth.

Caden shifted his weight, his feet scuffing lightly against the stone. The sound was strangely soothing in its normalcy. "They seemed bad. Worse than before."

"Nothing a bit of strong ale won't fix." Ana fumbled for her hip flask, her hand still unsteady. She brought it to her lips, but the moment the scent hit her, her stomach churned violently. With a grimace, she dropped the flask and lunged for the nearby—now—not so empty bucket, retching into it as the room spun around her.

Caden continued to watch her, his expression hovering somewhere between worry and resignation. "I could have made tea instead of... you know..."

"Water was fine," Ana interrupted, her voice steadier now though her jaw remained tight. She snatched the bread from his outstretched hand, ripping away a chunk with her teeth. "Always refreshing to wake up and nearly gut my apprentice. Sets a wonderful tone for the day."

A smirk danced on Caden's lips. He kept eating, the wooden table groaning under his elbows as he leaned in, eyes locked on Ana. "What's that shit-eating grin for?" she snapped. "Well," he shrugged, "you did call me your apprentice, didn't you?"

"Oh, fuck off," she retorted, rolling her eyes.

The room seemed to close in on her, the stone walls appearing to press inward, cold and unyielding, contrasting sharply with the overwhelming sensations she had awoken to. A narrow window allowed a sliver of early morning light to enter, but it did little to chase away the shadows.

"I didn't mean to wake you so... dramatically," Caden said hesitantly, his words carefully selected.

Ana waved him off, concentrating instead on calming her scattered thoughts.

Caden shifted again, the creak of his chair echoing in the quiet room.

"No." Ana's response was swift, leaving no room for debate. She locked eyes with Caden, her gaze fierce and unwavering. "We're not discussing it."

"But it seemed like you—"

"No," she repeated, her tone final, though it held an undercurrent of fear that belied her determined stance. The memory of running footsteps and half-heard, ominous conversations pressed at the corners of her mind, refusing to be ignored.

"We should get moving," Ana insisted, breaking the tension with the abruptness of her words. She stood, though her legs felt unsteady, as if they belonged to someone else.

Caden hesitated, then asked, "Are you sure you're okay to travel?" His voice was laced with genuine concern, and Ana's pride flared at the implication.

She fastened the straps on her gear with more force than finesse, each motion precise and angry.

The motion seemed to reassure Caden more than any promise of well-being could.

They gathered their things in silence, the quiet charged with the weight of things unsaid. Ana's mind was still a tangled mess of half-formed thoughts.

With a final, quick glance around the room, Ana shouldered her pack. The air between her and Caden crackled with tension, a mix of stubbornness and resolve that felt almost comforting in its familiarity. Side by side, they left the cramped confines behind.

The innkeeper glanced up as they reached the bottom of the stairs, wiping sweat from a brow etched with lines of patience and stress. Ana tossed a handful of silver coins onto the counter, each one sounding a clear, metallic note as it struck the wood.

"For the night's hospitality," she said, her voice is rough.

He wore a satisfied grin and a sturdy worker's tunic, its sleeves rolled up to free his hands. The fabric was coarse, a faded red with dust smeared liberally across the front. A fraying rope cinched the tunic at his waist, serving as an impromptu belt. Ana smirked as she took in the sight.

The innkeeper's eyes flicked from Ana to Caden and then to the pile of coins. "Generous," came the shrewd reply. "You want some of it back, maybe, if you help getting in—"

"We don't have time for—"

Ana's protest was cut short by a loud crash in the yard behind the inn, followed by the scuffling of boots. Young stablehands jostled into view, arms piled high with barrels and crates.

"—unloading," the innkeeper finished, gesturing toward the chaos with a knowing smile.

Ana's jaw tightened as she crossed her arms. Her eyes narrowed first at the innkeeper's smirk, then at Caden's poorly concealed interest in the commotion outside.

"Might as well eat while these bastards hold us hostage," she muttered, jerking her chin toward the door. "Go on."

Caden vanished through the doorway before she finished speaking, boot heels scuffing against the threshold in his haste.

Ana slumped onto a vacant stool, shoulders hunched against the morning. The kitchen belched forth its greeting—stale beer and something charred beyond recognition. She caught the innkeeper's eye and raised two fingers, already regretting the decision to stay.

"Wasn't expecting you still about," he commented, setting a frothy mug down in front of her.

"Me neither," Ana muttered, taking a tentative sip. The ale was bitter but strangely calming in its familiarity. She let out a long breath and settled in, her head cradled in her arms, while the tavern buzzed around her.

The innkeeper rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his thick, greying beard framing a round face that spoke of equal parts patience and stress. He studied Ana with a mixture of curiosity and amusement in his weathered eyes.

"Good lad, that one," he said, nodding toward the doorway where Caden had disappeared. "Eager to please."

Ana shrugged, her voice barely audible as she mumbled into her arms. "If you say so."

The innkeeper leaned back, crossing his arms over the worn fabric of his apron, stained from years of hard use. "Not many take the time to train up a boy like that. Must be he's worth the effort."

Ana feigned indifference, her response a half-hearted grunt.

"Sure you'll be glad you did," the innkeeper continued, his tone casual but laced with something that made Ana bristle. "Best enjoy having him as long as he's still a lad."

She sat up, meeting his gaze with a sharp look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He chuckled, unfazed by her glare. "Time has its way of slipping past. One day they're running to keep up; the next, they're long gone." He gave the bar a knowing pat and moved back toward the kitchen, leaving Ana alone with the ale.

Ana buried her face back in her arms, the innkeeper's words gnawing at her despite herself. The warmth of the room began to wrap around her like a heavy blanket, coaxing her eyes to close and her thoughts to dull. For a brief moment, she drifted in that precarious space between wakefulness and sleep.

"Hey!" one voice shouted suddenly above the others. "Watch out!" There was a loud splash. Laughter erupted through the open door—the unmistakable sound of Caden and another voice chiming together.

Time stretched and blurred as Ana nursed her hangover, her thoughts drifting lazily. Days like this had a habit of crawling by, each minute an eternity until she could think clearly again. The noise of the tavern faded to a dull hum as exhaustion claimed her. The room grew fuzzy at the edges, and she let herself sink into the murky embrace of sleep.

She awoke—not sure when—to Caden's voice cutting through the comfortable fog. He was breathless and animated, his words tumbling over each other in their haste to escape.

"We go everything unloaded! What should we do next?" He plopped down beside her, still catching his breath. "The stablehands said there's another wagon coming soon."

Ana groaned, the sound escaping before she could think better of it. She sat up, rubbing her eyes with a rough hand. "Been here long enough," she said, her voice low.

Caden's mouth stretched into a grin that reached his eyes. "We can go now?" he asked, bouncing on his heels.

"Now," Ana confirmed, rising to her feet and draining her cup in one swift motion. The ale burned a path down her throat, chasing away the fog in her mind. She strode toward the exit, each footfall more certain than the last. Caden shadowed her so closely she almost felt his breath on her neck. When she halted abruptly at the threshold to survey the sky, he crashed into her back.

"What is it?" he whispered, peering around her shoulder. Ana answered with a sharp flick to his forehead that made him yelp and rub the reddening spot.

"Pay attention to your surroundings," she muttered, the corner of her mouth twitching upward. "Daydreamers die first."

Caden scowled and puffed out his chest, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed his pleasure at her attention. They fell into step on the rutted path, dust rising in small clouds with each footfall as the village sounds faded behind them.

The landscape transformed gradually—ashen plains giving way to scraggly trees that clung to the earth like desperate survivors. Caden practically skipped beside her, gulping the open air like a man escaped from prison.