"Different how?"
"The first time I stood here, I was begging to get in." I touch my belly, feeling the familiar flutter of movement beneath my palm. "Now I'm walking away because coming here turned out to be more dangerous than having no place to go."
"You sound like you didn't expect that to happen."
"I didn't." The admission comes easier than it should. "I wasn't sure I ever expected to get in."
He stops beside me, reins loose in his hands. The horses stamp restlessly, eager to be moving, but he doesn't seem to notice.
"And now?"
I study his face in the dim starlight, searching for doubt or regret. Finding none, I allow myself a small smile.
"Now I'm learning what it feels like to be worth the risk."
He moves to the smaller of the two horses, checking straps and buckles with military precision. When he turns back to me, his hands are gentle despite their size.
"Can you manage the mounting, or do you need?—"
"I need help." The words still stick in my throat, pride warring with necessity. "I'm not strong enough yet to do it alone."
He nods without judgment, positioning himself beside the horse. His hands settle on my waist, careful of tender spots still healing.
"On three. One?—"
"Wait." I catch his wrist, feeling the pulse beneath scarred skin. "Are you certain about this? Once we leave, there's no coming back."
His tusks catch what little light filters through the clouds as he almost smiles.
"There's nothing here worth coming back to."
The mounting proves awkward and exhausting. My body rebels against the effort, muscles weak from days of captivity and trauma. Vargath bears most of my weight, lifting me with patient strength until I'm settled in the saddle. The leather feels strange beneath me, too wide, too high, but the horse stands steady beneath my shifting weight.
"Comfortable?"
"Define comfortable." I grip the reins, testing my balance. "I'll manage."
He produces thick animal skins from one of the packs, draping them across my legs and around my shoulders. The fur is soft against my skin, warm with the promise of protection against mountain winds.
"These should keep the cold out." His fingers linger on the edge of the blanket, adjusting the drape. "We have a long ride ahead."
"How long?"
"Days. Maybe weeks, depending on the weather and how well you hold up." He swings onto his own mount with fluid grace, settling into the saddle like he was born there. "We'll take it slow."
I gather the reins, feeling the horse's strength beneath me. The gates of Azhgar stand open before us, leading to roads I've never traveled and a future I can't imagine.
We don't look back.
The horses' hooves crunch through snow-crusted ground as we leave Azhgar's shadow behind. The settlement's torchlight fades to pinpricks, then disappears entirely as we follow the winding path into wilderness. My mount moves with steady rhythm beneath me, and I focus on staying balanced rather than dwelling on what we're abandoning.
The silence stretches between us, broken only by leather creaking and the occasional snort from the horses. Wind cuts through the furs draped around my shoulders, carrying the scent of pine and distant snow. I pull the coverings tighter, grateful for their warmth.
After an hour of riding through moonlit valleys, curiosity finally wins over caution. I glance sideways at Vargath, studying his profile against the star-scattered sky. His jaw remains set in that familiar line of determination, but something about his posture suggests relief rather than regret.
"Why now?"
He doesn't turn toward me, but his hands shift on the reins. The question hangs in the cold air like visible breath.
