They were exhausted, but alive. That was enough for now.
The clearing was silent again, the lesser dragon's body lying far behind them, but the air still felt heavy with danger.
"We made too much noise," Tomoe murmured, scanning the treeline. "Other creatures might come."
They needed shelter before nightfall.
It was Al-Haitham who found it — a small hollow beside a boulder large enough to break the wind, far from the dragon's corpse but close enough that they could retreat if needed. It wasn't perfect, but nothing out here was.
That night, their meal was cold and tasteless. No one complained. Lena winced often, a hand to her temple, her face pale with headache and dizziness. They cleaned and bandaged their wounds as best they could.
Haitham offered to take the first watch. The others didn't argue — maybe they saw the guilt in his eyes.
He sat there in the dark, bow resting across his knees, listening to the soft breathing of the others.
The weight in his chest was heavier than any dragon. He kept thinking about the fight — how he had frozen, how others had bled because he couldn't move.
The truth was, he'd never joined this journey for glory. Not really. did he only come because he didn't want to be left behind. And now… now he was afraid. Afraid that if he quit, they'd see him as a coward — worse, a traitor. And if he stayed, maybe someone would die because of him.
The fire had burned low when Nycto spoke from the shadows.
"That shot," he said, his voice quiet but sharp. "We're going to be counting on you."
Haitham said nothing. But his fingers tightened on the bowstring.
By morning, they all had the same unspoken thought — should we turn back?
But none of them voiced it.
Because even if the dream was dangerous… none of them were ready to let it go.