No one spoke.
No one needed to.
Velna cleaned her blade with the same rhythm someone might use to calm a heartbeat. Rythe sat cross-legged, watching the treeline like it owed her an answer. Derran leaned on his bad leg like it didn't bother him.
Lindarion waited three minutes.
Long enough for someone to speak.
No one did.
He turned back toward the ravine mouth.
"Gear up," he said. "We move."
Kael gave a low grunt. Not resistance. Just acknowledgment.
Stitch packed his vials without comment. Mekir rose without a sound. Luneth didn't glance back, she was already moving, light on the trail, watching everything.
Lira walked beside him. Always half a step off his flank. Nothing new there.
Ashwing's distant wingbeats echoed overhead. High. Watching. Waiting for a signal that might mean fire.
They moved as one.
No chatter.
No complaints.
Each step took them further from known terrain. The rock formations around them grew sharper, unnatural.
