The road was still silver with dawn when Marron left Meadowbrook.
Mist clung low over the fields, curling around her boots and the wheels of her cart like breath on glass. The sky was the pale color of cooled cream, and the air held that soft, forgiving chill that came before the sun's heat found its courage.
Behind her, the town was quiet. A few windows glowed faintly with morning candles, but no one stirred yet. The dwarves were still asleep, and normally the builders were the first to wake before sunrise.
This morning, only the smell of bread and wet earth followed her.
She looked back once at the diner. The bell over the door glinted faintly in the first light. Somewhere inside, Elena was probably already awake, sweeping the floor, humming softly. She would keep the place alive.
And Balen would finally go home to Whetvale and get some well-deserved rest.
Marron adjusted the straps of her pack and took her first step onto the open road.
