The trail bent beneath frost-cracked stone, silent underfoot except for the soft crunch of hooves and the creak of leather straps.
We didn't speak much on the way down.
Not because there was nothing to say.
Because nothing needed to be said.
Yaozu rode beside me, one hand steady on the reins, the other loose at his thigh—always within reach of a blade, though we hadn't seen a soul for hours. Shadow darted ahead now and then, ears alert, tail flicking, circling back only when the path narrowed to single file.
The cold didn't bother me. Not anymore.
I'd slept in his arms the last two nights, my face pressed into the curve of his neck, our bodies tangled beneath the thick wool blanket as if only having one blanket was the perfect excuse as to why we were sleeping together.
He hadn't let go. Not even once. And I hadn't asked him to.
