She stirs with a soft sound, wings flexing before she fully opens her eyes. Her attention drifts, unfocused at first, then sharpens. She looks at me. Then past me. Then back again. Her head tilts, just a fraction.
“Oh,” she says quietly.
The word is small, but it lands with a weight all its own.
Illadon stills beside her. “Oh what?”
She doesn’t answer him right away. Her gaze tracks toward the doorway where Korr disappeared, then returns to me. Her emerald eyes are bright, unreadable.
“The air feels… settled,” she says finally.
Illadon frowns. “That’s not a thing.”
She shrugs, unapologetic. “It is today.”
He glances at me again, clearly tempted to ask something, then stops himself. I recognize that restraint. I taught it to him. You don’t pry where trust is being built.
“Are we moving soon?” he asks instead.
“Yes,” I say. “After we eat.”
He nods, accepting that without argument, and rises to check their packs. Rverre swings her legs over the edge of the bedding and watches him for a moment before looking back at me.
“You didn’t disappear,” she says.
My chest tightens. “No.”
Her wings give a small, satisfied rustle. “Good.”
That’s all she says.
She stands and pads closer, stopping just within my space. The way she does when she’s curious but doesn’t want to disrupt something delicate.
“He stays close to you now,” she observes.
I open my mouth to deflect, to soften, to explain. Then I stop.
“Yes,” I say.
She studies my face, not searching for weakness, only truth. Whatever she finds seems to satisfy her. She nods once, decisively.
“That’s better,” she declares, then turns away as if the matter is settled.
Illadon shoots her a look. “You can’t just decide that.”
She glances back at him, utterly unbothered. “I didn’t decide. I noticed.”
He exhales, clearly outmatched, and shakes his head as he finishes tightening a strap. But his shoulders are looser than they were yesterday. His movements steadier. Trust, given without demand.
I don’t miss the way he positions himself closer to the doorway. Or how Rverre drifts into the space between him and me, a quiet bridge rather than a barrier.
When Korr returns a few minutes later, dust streaking one shoulder, Illadon straightens instinctively.
“Perimeter’s clear,” Korr says.
Illadon nods. “Good.”
Korr’s gaze flicks to me, quick and checking, then to the children. Something eases in his posture.
