The figure at the edge of the road did not move.
That alone was wrong.
Anyone else would have shifted their weight, adjusted their stance, reacted to the presence of four armed travelers cresting the hill. Anyone else would have shown something—nervousness, readiness, curiosity.
This person did none of it.
They stood where the dirt road met the grass, hands visible at their sides, posture relaxed without being careless. The morning light touched them evenly, revealing no armor, no weapon, no sigil of rank.
And yet—
The bond-field slowed.
Not resisted.
Not flared.
It acknowledged.
She felt it instantly, the way one recognized a change in pressure before a storm broke.
"That's them," Rowan murmured.
Silas didn't ask how he knew.
Alaric's attention sharpened, gaze narrowing slightly. "They're not hiding anything."
"No," she said quietly. "They don't need to."
