There was no longer any cold on the route leading down from the mountain.
A light breeze took the place of the cold wind, caresingly passing over Serakha's cloak. It did not appear that the trees were sleeping now. The trees stood tall, their branches curling over them like sentinels, and their silver-green foliage softly hummed as light passed through.
Lucian walked ahead, his flame, hidden beneath his skin, vibrating lightly as if pulsing.
Leaving the city was not complete; memories of it continued with them. They carried that memory with them as they went: Because the route curved in the right place beneath them, warmth hung on their backs, and a gentle silence filled the morning.
He brought up the rear, his normal quietness intact, yet his steps steadied the rest. He scanned the ground ahead, as though he expected something to happen. She stayed in the middle, her hand resting lightly on the seed kept inside her. It was not heavy. It was calm.
