Morning filtered softly through the wooden shutters, casting golden rays across the creaky floorboards. The scent of something warm and toasted floated in the air—herbs, firewood, a hint of leftover stew.
The four stirred in their rooms, sluggish and half-asleep, until a familiar voice called through the door with brisk certainty.
“Breakfast is ready. Wake up, kids!”
Without quite knowing how, they soon found themselves seated around the dining table, their heads still heavy, eyes half-lidded. The air was warm, and the same mismatched cups of tea from the night before steamed gently in front of them.
The old lady shuffled in and placed a plate in front of each of them. “Leftovers from yesterday,” she said, patting her apron. “Reheated and ready. Eat it before it gets cold again.”
Kael grunted, prodding the plate with mild betrayal. “Ughhh… we ate this last night.”
Ezryn didn’t even hesitate—he scooped a spoonful into his mouth, chewing contentedly. “I didn’t hear you complaining when we were chewing grass the last few days,” he muttered with a smirk, silver hair disheveled.
A collective chuckle broke out. Even Liz cracked a small smile as she stirred her tea.
The mood lightened. There was a rare comfort in the small, ordinary moment—something they hadn’t had in a long time. Warm food, chairs that didn’t creak under threat, a table that didn’t wobble. Lirael leaned back and sighed. “I could get used to this.”
But the moment didn’t last long.
As the last bite disappeared and mugs were drained, the old lady clapped her hands decisively and began pointing, one by one.
“Kael. Out. Pick up some wood—we’re low for cooking and heating.”
Kael blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. Chop, gather, whatever it takes.”
She turned to Ezryn and Lirael. “You two—find food. Edible things. We’ve got more mouths to feed now, and no one’s paying me in gold.”
Ezryn raised a brow. “You’re serious.”
“As frostbite.”
Then, at last, she turned to Liz, her expression softening. “And you, dear. How about helping me tidy up a little? Nothing much. Just sweep, maybe dust the corners. Take your time.”
Kael stood, half-offended. “Wait—why are we being turned into your servants? We’re not staying here long. We need to move. We need to find a way out.”
The old woman turned toward him with a calmness that cut straight through the morning light. Her tone didn’t rise, but her words carried weight.
“Oh? And how do you plan to find the way?”
Kael narrowed his eyes. “Through the forest. Same as how we came.”
“Exactly,” she said, the corner of her lips curling into a quiet smile. “And what better way to understand a forest… than to live beside it? Walk in it. Listen to it. Let it whisper back.”
She chuckled as she turned her back, leaving behind a silence too thoughtful for such a sleepy hour.
Kael grumbled under his breath, but this time, he didn’t argue.
The morning light spilled softly over the front porch. Liz stood alone at the doorway, the wooden frame casting long shadows behind her. The other three were already moving out—Lirael with a satchel over her shoulder, Ezryn flipping a coin lazily in his hand. Kael was the last to go, dragging his feet.
Then, suddenly, he turned back.
Without a word, he jogged up the steps to her, his brow furrowed in that way he always had when something didn’t sit right. He leaned in close, voice low.
“If anything feels off,” he whispered, “get out. Head north and call my name—I’ll come to you.”
Liz blinked, a bit startled by his intensity, but her expression softened. She reached up and gently tugged the fabric of his cloak near his chest—a small, familiar gesture.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said, offering a smile both light and steady. “I’ll be fine.”
Kael didn’t move. He looked like he was about to argue again, but Liz cut in before he could.
“If anything happens, I’ll run to you. I promise. Besides”—she lifted her wrist slightly, the delicate shimmer of a charm glinting in the sunlight—“Ezryn gave me a protection spell. A warded bracelet. He said it’ll hold against most threats.”
Kael’s gaze dropped to the bracelet. His lips thinned, half in doubt, half in reluctant trust. But he nodded, slowly.
“I’ll be back soon,” he murmured. His hand hovered as if he wanted to touch her, but he turned away before it could happen.
Then he left.
Liz lingered in the doorway, watching the three figures fade into the woods. The silence that followed was oddly heavy—too still for the morning.
“Finally,” a voice said behind her.
Liz flinched.
The old woman stood in the shadow of the hallway, hands folded loosely behind her back, a sly gleam in her eye.
“Some time alone with you,” she mused aloud. “Must be nice to be young. That boy—so stubborn. Took quite a bit of effort to get him out the door.”
Liz turned cautiously, her voice cool. “What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, nothing,” the woman replied lightly, waving a hand. “Don’t look so tense. You’ve seemed out of place since you arrived, that’s all. Thought you could use a bit of quiet. Time to settle.”
Her smile was sweet, but her tone had a strange lilt—half teasing, half… watching.
Liz didn’t reply right away. Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
The old woman tilted her head, as if sensing the hesitation. “If you like to read,” she offered, “I’ve got a little library upstairs. Dusty, but it’ll do for killing time.”
Liz frowned. “I thought I was supposed to clean the house?”
The woman chuckled. “It’s already clean, dear. Go ahead. Take the morning for yourself.”
She turned and walked back into the shadows of the hallway, humming something too faint to name.
Liz stayed at the door a moment longer, eyes narrowing slightly.
Then, slowly, she stepped back inside.
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