Kenzo led the way like he remembered every bend of Ukai's branches by instinct.
Raizen followed with the small map tucked away now, the morning light doing most of the work.
Ukai in daylight looked just like Raizen first remembered it - less mysterious, more alive. Birds hopped between vines. Leaves whooshed overhead.
Saffi walked beside Raizen, still half in her own world, eyes drifting up at every strange plant she passed like she expected one of them to catch her eyes.
Kenzo's hammer floated close to his back, steady. It floated more like a patient companion than a weapon.
They took the same path as before.
Raizen recognized it it by the shape of the trunks, by the way the light fell through the canopy, by the small stalls he visited before.
And then they reached the place where the burn should have been.
Raizen slowed down a bit.
Yesterday, it was a scar - a huge patch of blackened bark and dead wood. It stood out like a scar you couldn't stop staring at.
