The fire settled into itself, flames lowering from eager tongues to a steady, breathing glow. Wood popped softly now and then, sparks lifting and vanishing before they could decide where to land.
The woman sat opposite the girl, close enough to share warmth but not close enough to crowd. She watched the fire too, though her eyes kept drifting—counting shadows, listening for sounds that hadn't arrived yet.
The man busied himself at the edge of the hollow, checking straps that didn't need checking, pacing a short line and back again. Motion as reassurance.
Rhys noticed without comment.
Caria broke a small piece of bread and handed it to the girl first, then to the woman, then to the man. No order that implied authority. Just… inclusion.
"Where are you headed?" the woman asked eventually. Not suspicion this time. Orientation.
"Inland," Rhys said. "Not to anywhere specific."
The man snorted quietly. "Must be nice."
