Daybreak moved into the world, literally whispered over the trees. The world had changed again. The Mirror Fields were behind, misted out of sight and out of mind and the steep slope of the Vertical, the great mountain chain that flung itself straight across the end of the world, was ahead.
Lucian stirred first. Their fire had died down; dew had rested on the grass. He sat up gently, stretching his arms, and turned around. He was awake, on a flat rock, sharpening a thin piece of wood with a practiced still hand. Next to the knot, Serakha slept on, her features lax as he rarely saw them. She looked peaceful.
Lucian smiled, allowing himself the quiet time before the day's ascent.
Soon Serakha blinked awake. His eyes met hers and the warmth between them appeared to be increasing like a sullen fire.
"Morning," she whispered.
'Morning', he said, as he brushed away some leaves from her cloak. "You slept well."
