Ash didn't remember drifting off. One drip became two, then three, then silence, and when sound returned it carried a different shape—two fast, one slow. He stirred, ear canted toward the cadence, tongue flat against the urge to cough.
'I didn't realise I fell asleep.'
Ache flared through his right shoulder and along his ribs; pads felt bruised from stone, and his haunch pulled tight where the fall had twisted him.
'Ugh... That hurts...' he thought as the pain helped him slowly expel the drowsiness in his body.
He then felt a weight on his ribs and slowly began to open his eyes while lifting his head slowly to see what was there.
It was Veyra—recognizable even in the lichen gloom: dark hair braided back with a thin copper ring; a small bone charm at her throat on a leather cord; charcoal smudges that never quite left her forefinger and thumb from mapping; a travel cloak hemmed in simple cross‑hatch; and the faint resin‑and‑herb scent that always clung to her.
