They were back in the carriage by mid-morning, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the stone road a constant, familiar sound. The air was still thick with the aftermath of the storm, but the sun was shining, and the world outside the carriage windows was a blur of green and gold.
Emily was still nursing the cup of tea Adrien had insisted on making for her, the warm, fragrant liquid a small comfort in the midst of the chaos. Mia was curled up in her lap, purring softly, her anger at Merwyn apparently forgotten in the warmth of the sun and the comfort of Emily's lap. Merwyn was sitting opposite her, humming a tuneless, infuriatingly catchy song and examining a small, iridescent beetle he held in the palm of his hand.
Kieran was, as usual, a silent, imposing presence, his gaze fixed on the world outside the carriage window, his expression unreadable. He was a wall, a solid, unyielding presence that was both comforting and frustrating.
