When the first rays of dawn stretched across the horizon, Qen stirred awake. The faint warmth of the sunlight bled through the cracks of the wooden hut, falling across his face. His eyes opened to the quiet rise of morning, the sounds of the waking forest outside reminding him that today would not be an ordinary day.
He rose, rolling his shoulders, still faintly sore from the battle a few nights ago. His hand brushed instinctively against the bandaged wound on his shoulder—rough cloth strips tied with simple knots, a reminder of both pain and survival. He breathed in deeply, exhaled, then pushed himself to his feet.
"Time to get moving," he muttered to himself before stepping outside.
The camp was quiet at first, but as he raised his voice, his companions began to stir.
"Wake up, everyone," Qen called firmly. "We need to prepare and reach Guana Village before noon. The road is long, and I don't want us slowed when we head to Touran City."
One by one, the group emerged from their bedding. Hert stretched, his wolfish ears flicking as he sniffed the air, yawning widely. Freon padded beside him, shaking its fur and letting out a low huff. Chren rubbed the sleep from his eyes, muttering something about the floor being harder than his back deserved. Keir scrambled up quickly, as though he feared slowing the others, while Elira sat gracefully, brushing her long dark hair away from her face before readying herself.
They began gathering their things—water skins, packed food, and most importantly, the remaining coins that would serve as their lifeline for the upcoming journey. Each of them checked their belongings twice, the weight of responsibility clear in their movements.
Qen busied himself with the wagon, inspecting the wheels and the harness while tightening the straps. The horses snorted as he patted their flanks. They were sturdy beasts, though exhausted from the past days of travel. He ran a hand over their necks, murmuring softly.
Before climbing onto the wagon, Qen turned to Hert. "I'll need you and your pack to keep watch over the camp while we're gone. We won't be away long, but I'd rather know the place is guarded."
Hert gave a small nod, his golden eyes steady. "Don't worry. My kin will circle here. Nothing will come close."
Satisfied, Qen adjusted the harness. Then, with a commanding voice, he called, "Everyone, get in. We leave now."
Chren was told to ride up front beside Qen, while Hert, Keir, and Freon took positions at the back, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.
The wagon lurched forward as Qen cracked the reins, urging the horses to a faster pace. Dust rose behind them as the wheels turned, the forest slowly giving way to open fields.
The morning passed swiftly, and halfway along the road, Qen slowed the wagon near a wide river. The current glittered under the sun as water coursed steadily southward.
"Rest break," Qen said, pulling the wagon to a halt.
The horses were panting, sweat darkening their coats. They were unharnessed and led toward the riverbank, where they dipped their heads into the cool water. Keir pulled out armfuls of weeds and long grass, feeding the beasts while murmuring encouragements like a farmhand who had done this countless times.
Meanwhile, the group spread themselves on the soft grass nearby. The ground was damp with morning dew, but the warmth of the sun made it pleasant. They pulled from their packs strips of dried meat, root vegetables, and bread, and with Hert's quick skill, a small fire was lit.
As smoke curled upward, Chren muttered, "Never thought I'd be cooking in the open fields like this again. Strange, but… not unpleasant."
Elira sat beside him, curious as she watched Keir turn the sizzling meat with awkward enthusiasm. At first, she looked doubtful, her refined posture betraying her noble upbringing. But when the savory aroma filled the air, even she leaned closer.
Qen noticed and chuckled softly. "You're not used to food like this, are you, Lady Elira?"
She frowned faintly at the title. "Not exactly. At home, meals were always served in dishes I could hardly finish. Everything was… complicated. Perfectly arranged, polished, delicate. But it always felt empty."
Keir offered her a piece of roasted meat on a stick. "Try this, my lady. It's not much, but it's honest food."
Elira hesitated, then took a bite. Her eyes widened as she chewed slowly, then a small smile formed on her lips. "It's… better than what I imagined. It tastes real."
Everyone laughed at her choice of words, and for a moment, the mood was light.
After their bellies were full, they lay back on the grass, watching clouds drift lazily in the sky. Freon stretched out beside Qen, its massive frame casting shade over him.
"Alright," Qen finally said after a long silence, sitting up. "We've rested enough. Let's move."
By midday, the wagon approached Guana Village. From a distance, Qen could already see farmers at work in their fields. As soon as they recognized him, they waved, their calloused hands raised high in welcome.
"Looks like you're well-known here," Chren remarked, raising a brow. "Even the farmers look at you like a friend. You seem to build bonds easily."
Qen gave a low chuckle. "Sometimes a smile and a helping hand are enough. People remember kindness."
The wagon rattled into the village, stopping before the familiar elder's house. Keir's family, who had worried since his departure, rushed out when they saw him safe. His mother clasped his shoulders, tears in her eyes, while his father stood firm but relieved, nodding at Qen with a silent gratitude.
"We'll speak soon," Keir promised his parents before hurrying to join Qen. His loyalty was written on his face.
The elder soon appeared, his steps slow but steady, a broad smile spreading across his wrinkled face. He gripped Qen's hand firmly in greeting. "You've returned, traveler. And you bring many companions this time."
Qen didn't waste time with formalities. "Elder, we're heading toward Touran City. We'll need supplies for the journey. Food, tools, whatever the merchants can provide."
The elder blinked in surprise. "Touran City? That is no small trip." After a pause, he nodded and clapped his hands, calling for his aides. "Very well. Gather the merchants. Let them bring out what they have."
Before long, the square filled with villagers and traveling traders displaying their goods: baskets of fruit, loaves of bread, bundles of herbs, smoked meats, and simple tools. Qen inspected the items carefully, buying in generous quantities. He paid fair prices, even a little more than necessary, earning the merchants' respect.
They purchased dried smoked beef, preserved fruits, flour, and coarse bread that would last on the road. Qen also made sure to secure spare tools and rope, for one never knew what dangers awaited.
As the afternoon stretched on, Qen turned to the elder once more. "May we stay here for a night before we continue? We'll set out at dawn tomorrow."
The elder nodded warmly. "Of course. The village is yours to rest in."
Keir's parents then stepped forward, embracing their son. His mother's voice trembled. "Keir, you've been gone only a week, yet it feels like months. You look… different. Stronger, somehow."
Keir's throat tightened. "Mother, Father… I've decided. I want to stay by Qen's side. I want to learn, to serve, even if he's just a traveler. I don't want to return to the life of doing nothing while the world passes me by."
His parents exchanged a long look, a silent conversation in their eyes. At last, his father smiled faintly, his voice rough with emotion. "You can do whatever you believe in, Keir. We'll support you, as long as we're able."
Keir's eyes stung. Tears slipped down his cheeks, and he bowed his head deeply. "Thank you… thank you both."
Qen, watching quietly, placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Then let's move forward together."
That night, Qen and his companions stayed in the same hut he had once rested in when he first came to Guana. The room was humble, but filled with warmth and familiarity. As they shared the simple meal prepared for them, laughter and stories filled the space.
For the first time in a long while, Qen felt something stir in his chest—a fragile yet undeniable bond tying him to these people.