The forest was alive with the sounds of spring.
Birds sang in the canopy. Squirrels chattered in the underbrush. The wind whispered through the leaves, carrying the scent of pine and earth and something that smelled like hope.
Matt breathed deeply, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease. This was where he belonged. Not in a castle, surrounded by stone and shadows. But here, in the open air, with the sun on his face and the road stretching ahead.
Yvonne walked beside him, her hand in his. She looked lighter than she had in weeks—her steps quick, her eyes bright. The forest seemed to welcome her, its shadows parting to let her pass.
Sam brought up the rear, his eyes scanning the treeline. He was still on guard, still watchful, but there was a relaxation in his posture that hadn't been there before.
"Can you believe it?" Yvonne asked, her voice soft. "We're actually free."
"Not entirely," Sam said. "There's still the pack. And the prophecy. And Arne watching from the shadows."
